5Y-PANNY-N-D 
7AVRFR.ee 


FELICIA 

A  NOVEL 


BY 


FANNY  N.  D.  MURFREE 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   A'ND  COMPANY 

ST&e  fimersiDe  press,  «rambriH0e 

1893 


Copyright,  1891, 
Br  FANNY  N.  D.  MURFREE. 

All  rights  reserved. 


FOURTH    EDITION. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  TJ.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co. 


FELICIA. 


THE  Reverend  Robert  Raymond  prided  him- 
self, in  a  seemly  and  clerical  fashion,  on  his  tact. 
So  innocent  and  candid  was  this  endowment  as 
he  possessed  it  that  it  was  distinctly  apparent, 
and  the  disaffected  of  the  congregation  construed 
him  as  a  scheming  man,  unduly  versed  in  the 
ways  of  the  world  for  a  clergyman.  Among  the 
persons  who  interpreted  him  more  justly  was  a 
young  girl,  who  sat  near  him,  one  summer  morn- 
ing, in  a  large  parlor  on  the  shady  side  of  the 
house.  The  welcome  watering-carts  rumbled  up 
and  down  the  street,  giving  to  the  air  the  taste  of 
sudden,  showers ;  the  breeze  waved  the  curtains, 
stirred  the  plants  in  the  balcony,  and  wafted 
freshly  into  the  room  the  odors  of  heliotrope  and 
geranium. 

Mr.  Raymond  looked  with  some  admiration  at 
the  brilliant  face,  with  its  background  of  flutter- 
ing lace  and  flowers.  He  was  one  of  those  men 
whose  attitude  toward  women  is  something  of  the 
paternal,  at  once  protective  and  indulgent ;  he 
found  a  certain  charm  in  their  caprices,  and  just 

2137305 


2  FELICIA. 

now  the  evident  petulance  of  his  wife's  young 
cousin  induced  not  so  much  tolerance  as  approval. 

"  Oh,  it 's  all  very  well  for  you  to  preach,  cousin 
Robert  "  —  she  cried. 

"  So  some  people  think,"  he  interpolated,  with 
a  laugh. 

— "  about  duty  and  obedience,  and  all  that ; 
but  what  is  my  duty  ?  —  that 's  what  I  want  to 
know." 

If  he  had  told  her  the  exact  truth,  he  would 
have  said  that  in  his  opinion  it  was  her  duty  to 
be  charming,  like  the  blue  sky,  the  sunshine,  the 
tints  on  that  rosebud  against  the  gray  stone  there. 
But  it  will  not  do  even  for  a  clergyman  to  always 
speak  his  whole  mind,  so  he  sedately  replied  that 
her  duties  would  probably  define  themselves  dis- 
tinctly enough  as  the  years  went  by,  and  he  did 
not  doubt  she  would  be  very  faithful  in  their  per- 
formance. 

"  I  do  hope  I  shall  know  what  they  are,"  she 
declared,  with  animation.  "  Now,  what  am  I  to 
do?  Nothing  pleases  papa.  He  was  determined, 
he  said,  that  his  only  daughter  should  have  all 
the  advantages  that  money  could  command,  and 
he  gave  them  to  me,  and  I  fully  availed  myself 
of  them.  Now,"  eukninatively,  "  he  is  not  satis- 
fied." 

The  Reverend  Robert  Raymond  said  to  himself 
that  the  old  Judge  must  be  hard  to  please  if  he 
were  indeed  dissatisfied  with  the  result  of  his  in- 
vestment. To  speak  disrespectfully  of  the  Chan- 


FELICIA.  3 

cellor  behind  his  back  was  a  privilege  claimed  by 
many  people  besides  the  lawyers  whom  a  hard 
fate  compelled  to  practice  in  his  court.  A  notable 
metropolitan  school,  the  regimen  of  regular  hours, 
diet,  and  exercise,  and  a  carefully  devised  curri- 
culum had  returned  to  him,  as  a  finished  product 
of  feminine  education,  this  young  woman  of  twenty- 
two,  of  fine  mind,  manners,  health,  and  morals, 
sufficiently  well  grounded  in  useful  branches,  mod- 
erately accomplished  in  the  modern  languages, 
music,  and  painting,  with  an  exceedingly  lively 
and  cultivated  imagination,  and  with  keen  appre- 
ciation and  consummate  tact  in  all  matters  per- 
taining to  dress  and  personal  adornment.  The 
possession  of  this  last  talent  was  manifest  in  her 
fresh  and  well-chosen  morning  toilette,  —  white, 
sparsely  trimmed  with  delicately  fine  embroideries 
and  a  few  knots  of  purple  ribbon.  There  was  a 
distinct  arrogation  of  simplicity,  but  the  minute- 
ness and  perfection  of  detail  showed  that  a  taste 
for  the  ornate  in  decoration  was  only  held  in  sub- 
jectipn  by  the  laws  of  the  appropriate.  She  was 
very  pretty.  A  flush  on  her  face  accented  the 
fairness  of  her  complexion  ;  her  eyes,  so  deeply 
blue  that  they  were  almost  purple,  were  downcast 
and  shaded  by  dark  lashes  ;  her  parted  lips  —  the 
upper  one  particularly  delicate,  sensitive,  and  well 
cut,  curving  downward  —  showed  a  line  of  small 
white  teeth ;  her  nose  was  straight  and  noticeably 
narrow  from  the  point  to  the  line  of  the  nostril,  — 
this,  with  the  oval  of  her  face,  gave  her  a  look  of 


4  FELICIA. 

much  refinement ;  her  hair,  a  red-brown,  almost 
auburn,  was  brushed  back,  but  close  about  her 
brow  the  heat  had  curled  sundry  tendrils  that  had 
a  tinge  of  gold  ;  when  she  looked  up  and  laughed, 
dimples  were  apparent  in  the  soft  rose  of  each 
cheek. 

"  I  am  growing  very  cynical,"  she  cried.  "  I 
am  sour  and  disappointed."  Then  she  looked 
down  again  and  pouted.  She  understood  human 
nature  well  enough  to  know  that  she  might  pout 
as  much  as  she  chose  in  cousin  Robert's  presence. 

"  In  what,  may  I  ask,  are  you  disappointed  ?  " 
he  demanded,  with  due  gravity. 

"  In  life,"  replied  Miss  Felicia  Hamilton,  sen- 
tentiously. 

"  That 's  sad,"  said  cousin  Robert. 

"  In  life,"  she  repeated,  this  time  vivaciously. 
"  It  promises  one  thing,  and  it  offers  another.  I 
am  educated  to  one  set  of  views,  and  when  I  have 
developed  what  mind  I  have  according  to  them, 
suddenly  I  am  expected  to  conform  to  another  set, 
entirely  different.  This  was  the  way  of  it,  cousin 
Robert."  She  bent  upon  him  a  smile  calculated 
to  win  to  partisanship  a  more  obdurate  heart  than 
his,  and  continued  with  a  delightful  show  of  con- 
fidence :  — 

"  You  see,  when  I  was  young  —  quite  young,  I 
mean,  ten  years  ago  —  I  was  a  little  bookworm ; 
very  intellectual,  I  assure  you,  though  you  might 
not  think  it  now.  I  read  everything ;  I  was  very 
precocious.  I  cared  nothing  for  the  other  young 


FELICIA.  5 

girls  and  their  amusements,  or  pretty  things  to 
wear,  or  music,  —  only  for  books,  books.  Papa 
said  that  was  all  wrong.  He  did  not  want  me  to 
grow  up  shy,  and  absorbed,  and  awkward.  He 
wanted  me  to  shine  in  society,  to  be  elaborately 
educated,  and  have  fine  manners.  So  he  sent  me 
to  Madame  Sevier,  and  there  I  remained  ten 
years,  even  during  the  vacations.  She  and  the 
rest  of  them  did  their  duty,  and  I  tried  to  do 
mine.  Now,  what  do  you  think  papa  says  ?  That 
I  am  frivolous  and  spoiled;  that  I  care  too  much 
for  dress  and  society,  and  am  not  domestic  at 
all  !  "  —  with  much  exclamatory  emphasis  of 
pretty  eyes  and  lips,  —  "  and  don't  love  home. 
Frivolous,  —  that 's  what  he  calls  me  !  " 

Two  tears  rose  to  the  violet  eyes  that  rested  on 
cousin  Robert's  face,  and  his  heart  was  hot  within 
him  against  the  absent  Judge. 

"  Your  father  expects  you  to  be  '  domestic '  after 
ten  years  with  Madame  Sevier?"  sarcastically 
commented  this  wise  clerical  confidant  and  spir- 
itual pastor. 

"  And  we  saw  a  great  deal  of  very  fashionable 
society  with  Madame  Sevier,"  resumed  the  young 
lady  suddenly,  and  with  much  vivacity.  "  And 
in  summer  she  had  directions  to  take  me  to  the 
mountains  and  the  seashore,  —  Newport,  Sara- 
toga, the  White  Mountains.  We  went  —  every- 
where. She  knew  —  everybody  ;  that  is,  every- 
body worth  knowing.  Now,  is  that  the  kind  of 
training  to  fit  a  girl  for  a  sleepy  little  Southern 
country  town  like  Blankburg  ?  " 


0  FELICIA. 

"  Any  young  men  ?  "  inquired  cousin  Robert, 
demurely. 

She  looked  at  him  expressively. 

"  Such  sticks  !  "  she  said,  concisely. 

Cousin  Robert's  face  betrayed  no  amusement. 
It  was  a  long,  thin  face,  with  bright  gray  eyes,  a 
hooked  nose,  some  premature  wrinkles,  a  strag- 
gling mustache,  fine  teeth,  a  large  mouth,  and  oc- 
casionally a  brilliant  smile.  His  lank  figure  was 
disposed  in  a  comfortable  attitude  in  an  easy- 
chair,  and  his  white  hands,  with  their  slim,  ner- 
vous fingers,  rested  on  its  arms.  His  hat  and 
cane  ornamented  a  table  near  by,  and  his  wife's 
parasol  was  on  the  sofa.  This  was  not  a  pastoral 
call,  merely  a  prolonged  cousinly  visit. 

"  Why  are  they  sticks  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Divinity  students,"  she  replied,  with  a  certain 
scorn.  Then,  with  an  abrupt  resumption  cf  her 
smooth  manner,  "  Don't  you  think,  cousin  Robert, 
that  such  men  are  very  young  ?  I  don't  mean  in 
years,  —  some  of  them  are  not  very  young  in 
years,  —  but  in  experience.  They  are  rather  — 
well,  raw,  you  know,  or  perhaps  crude." 

"  I  think  '  raw '  is  the  word  you  want,"  he  said. 
"  They  are  apt  to  be  raw  till  some  such  young 
lady  as  you  takes  them  in  hand,  when  they  gener- 
ally get  done  very  brown  indeed." 

She  did  not  reply  directly  to  this.  Men  like 
cousin  Robert  have  only  themselves  to  thank  if 
their  feminine  acquaintance  regard  them  as  chiefly 
useful  in  preventing  conversation  from  degenerat- 
ing into  monologue* 


FELICIA.  7 

"  Papa  considers  it  very  unseemly  that  I  do  not 
rate  those  young  men  more  highly.  He  says  they 
are  well  read,  and  cultivated,  and  all  that.  Of 
course  they  are.  It  is  their  metier  to  be  culti- 
vated. But  they  know  books,  and  nothing  else. 
They  don't  know  life;  they  don't  know  human 
nature.  Those  young  men  talk  books  until  I  am 
ready  to  perish  :  Herbert  Spencer,  and  systems, 
and  refutations,  and  everything  in  books,  from 
Pliny  up  and  down.  Now,  I  am  tired  of  Pliny. 
I  have  heard  all  I  want  to  hear  about  Pliny ;  I 
used  to  read  about  Pliny  myself,  a  long  time 
ago,  —  when  I  was  young.  Papa  can't  under- 
stand all  that.  He  thinks  a  town  with  a  flourish- 
ing theological  school  is  the  very  place  to  please  a 
young  woman  with  a  cultivated  understanding. 
And  among  them  all  I  find  it  dull  in  Blankburg, 
—  dull  as  the  grave." 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  find  society  in  this  city  so 
dull  as  in  Blankburg,"  said  cousin  Robert,  sym- 
pathetically. 

"  So  far  as  I  can  judge,  being  a  stranger,"  she 
replied,  demurely,  her  manner  conveying  an  inti- 
mation that  a  visitor's  verdict  must  of  necessity 
be  favorable,  "  society  here  may  be  very  pleasant. 
Now,  you  must  understand,  cousin  Robert,"  she 
added,  with  a  sudden  return  of  liveliness,  and 
bending  upon  him  convincing  eyes,  "  I  am  not  a 
missish  young  woman,  eager  to  meet  an  Adonis 
with  a  dark  mustache.  I  don't  want  to  fall  in 
love,  and  I  don't  want  to  marry  any  one  "  — 


8  FELICIA. 

"  Very,  very  magnanimous,"  murmured  cousin 
Robert. 

—  "  but  I  want  to  see  some  interesting  people ; 
men  who  know  life,  and  politics,  and  the  world, 
and  society."  She  seemed  conscious  of  a  little 
vagueness,  for  she  added,  after  a  moment's  reflec- 
tion, "  I  can't  explain  exactly  what  I  mean.  I 
think  I  mean  men  who  are  intellectual  and  not 
eager  to  display  the  fact,  and  polished  but  not 
priggish,  and  who  observe  instead  of  expecting 
others  to  observe  them.  I  don't  care  if  they  are 
young  or  old,  married  or  single,  American  or  for- 
eign. I  only  want  them  to  be  interesting.  That 
does  n't  seem  too  much  to  ask  of  human  nature, 
does  it  ?  " 

Cousin  Robert  admitted  that  it  did  not,  and 
added  that  if  the  congregation  of  St.  Paul's  of- 
fered any  of  the  material  she  approved  as  enter- 
tainment, he  might  venture  to  promise  that  it  was 
at  her  disposal. 

She  glanced  at  him  archly. 

"  Will  you  warrant  them  ignorant  of  Pliny?" 
she  asked,  mischievously.  Then  she  turned  again 
to  the  window. 

Her  companion  had  observed  that  her  attention 
had  very  slightly  wandered  during  the  last  few 
seconds,  as  her  eyes  had  rested  on  some  object 
apparently  advancing  down  the  sidewalk.  He 
leaned  forward,  looked  out,  and  suddenly  drew 
back,  with  palpable  annoyance  expressed  on  his 
face. 


FELICIA.  9 

Two  ladies,  who  had  been  discussing  4H  the 
back  parlor  a  supposed  cabal  of  the  disaffected 
against  the  Reverend  Robert's  tenure  of  office,  — 
their  conference  gaining  much  of  confidential  ef- 
fect from  the  employment  of  a  mysterious  under- 
tone and  acquiescent  nods  when  words  failed,  — 
now  entered  the  front  room.  Mrs.  John  Ham- 
ilton, a  plump  little  lady,  with  a  brilliant  com- 
plexion and  round,  intent  eyes,  might  have  seemed 
always  listening,  so  serious  was  her  expression 
and  so  marked  her  general  air  of  attention  and 
responsibility.  Mrs.  Raymond,  on  the  contrary, 
seemed  irresponsible,  inattentive,  and  inconse- 
quent. She  was  much  younger  than  her  husband, 
was  fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  and  childish  and  in- 
definite in  manner.  She  looked  about  vaguely 
for  her  parasol,  and  when  she  had  secured  it 
strolled  to  her  husband's  armchair,  and  leaned 
against  it,  with  her  elbows  on  its  back. 

"Isn't  it  time  for  us  to  go  home,  dear?"  she 
suggested. 

And  now  came  the  emergency  which  drew  on 
cousin  Robert's  store  of  tact. 

Her  attitude  gave  her  a  glimpse  of  the  street, 
and  of  a  gentleman  at  this  moment  traversing 
the  crossing. 

"  Why,  Robert,  there  is  Hugh  Kennett !  "  she 
exclaimed,  suddenly. 

The  gentleman  on  the  crossing  raised  his  eyes ; 
they  gravely  met  those  of  Miss  Hamilton ;  in  an- 
other instant  he  had  passed  out  of  sight,  and  she 


FELICIA. 

into  the  room.  Mr.  Raymond  had 
at  length  relinquished  the  armchair,  and  was 
standing  with  his  back  to  the  window,  in  such  a 
position  that,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet,  he  must  have 
prevented  the  passer  from  recognizing  either  him 
or  his  wife.  This  fact,  his  neglect  of  Mrs.  Ray- 
mond's question,  and  the  swift,  significant  glance 
that  he  gave  her  did  not  escape  the  attention  of 
our  observant  young  lady  ;  she  recognized  cousin 
Robert's  adroitness.  She  speculated  a  little  on 
the  subject.  "  Did  he  want  me  not  to  see  that 
they  know  that  gentleman  ?  "  she  said  to  herself. 
Cousin  Robert  was  not  the  sort  of  man  to  manoeu- 
vre causelessly  in  trifling  social  emergencies  ;  yet 
he  had  clumsily  attempted  to  ignore  the  existence 
of  his  friend.  "  That  was  an  odd  thing,"  thought 
Felicia,  puzzled. 

Shortly  after  this  the  visitors  took  their  de- 
parture, and  as  they  walked  up  the  street  Mr. 
Raymond  gave  his  wife  a  little  warning. 

"  Amy,  be  careful  how  yon  mention  Kennett 
before  your  cousin.  She  is  very  young  and  im- 
pressionable, and  it  is  undesirable  that  she  should 
become  interested  in  him.  She  knows  very  few 
pleasant  people  here,  and  he  is  an  extremely 
agreeable  sort  of  fellow,  and  "  — 

"  That  is  an  excellent  reason  why  he  should  be 
mentioned,"  said  little  Mrs.  Amy,  with  the  air  of 
seeing  both  sides  of  a  question. 

"  Oh,  good  gracious  ! "  ejaculated  the  Rever- 
end Robert  Raymond,  like  any  other  exclamatory 
miserable  sinner,  "  think  of  the  old  Judge." 


FELICIA.  11 

"  I  forgot  the  Judge,"  said  Amy,  quickly  and 
apprehensively.  "  I  will  be  careful." 

People  thus  unexpectedly  reminded  of  the 
Judge  were  apt  to  hurriedly  concede  the  point, 
and  to  wear  for  some  time  an  anxious  and  de- 
pressed air. 


II. 

FOR  a  number  of  mornings  previous  to  the 
one  herein  commemorated,  Miss  Hamilton,  whose 
habit  it  was  to  sit,  with  some  slight  resource  in 
the  way  of  fancy-work,  near  one  of  the  windows 
which  opened  upon  the  quiet  suburban  avenue, 
had  observed  a  tall,  sedate  stranger  advance  along 
the  opposite  sidewalk,  cross  the  street,  and  disap- 
pear from  view.  Perhaps  her  attention  was  at- 
tracted because  of  the  regularity  of  this  episode  ; 
perhaps  because  his  appearance  approximated  her 
somewhat  exacting  ideal;  perhaps  because  the 
first  time  she  saw  him  he  was  looking  at  the  win- 
dow with  a  certain  expectancy.  Among  the  ac- 
pomplishments  she  had  acquired  under  Madame 
Sevier's  tutelage  was  not  the  grace  of  humility. 
The  idea  was  instantly  suggested  that  he  had  be- 
fore seen  her  here,  and  was  on  the  lookout  for 
her.  This  flattered  her  and  piqued  her  curiosity, 
—  all  the  more  because  of  the  regular  recurrence 
of  the  phenomenon  about  the  same  hour.  He 
was  a  grave  man,  twenty-five  or  thirty  years  of 
age  ;  handsome  in  a  certain  sense,  but  not  in  the 
style  that  usually  attracts  the  favorable  regards  of 
young  girls.  He  had  deeply  set  gray  eyes,  an 
aquiline  nose,  a  large,  firm  chin,  a  finely  chiseled 


FELICIA.  13 

mouth  and  flexible  lips,  about  which  were  lines: 
that  showed  a  capacity  for  varying  expression. 
The  strong  lower  jaw,  and  broad,  high  forehead 
gave  the  face  a  certain  squareness.  He  was  clean- 
shaven, and  his  light  brown  hair  was  clipped  close 
to  a  shapely  head.  He  wore  a  well-fitting  suit  of 
light  cloth,  and  a  straw  hat.  He  was  tall,  well 
proportioned,  and  -•-  as  an  experienced  observer 
could  easily  have  seen  —  in  good  training  from  the 
standpoint  of  athletics.  He  walked  slowly,  but  at 
an  even  pace,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  the 
left ;  and  there  was  nothing,  apparently,  which 
broke  the  monotony  of  his  methodical  progress 
down  the  street  except  the  momentary  interest 
with  which  he  glanced  at  the  front  window  of  the 
corner  house. 

Now,  if  there  had  been  any  recognizable  be- 
trayal of  such  interest  at  this  stage  of  the  affair, 
or  any  attempt  to  inaugurate  an  acquaintance, 
the  matter  would  have  abruptly  terminated,  and 
Hugh  Kennett  would  have  had  only  the  view 
of  John  Hamilton's  closed  window-blinds  for  his 
pains ;  for  the  young  lady,  with  all  her  caprice, 
her  somewhat  exaggerated  self-esteem,  —  to  put  it 
mildly,  —  and  her  love  of  excitement,  was  fastid- 
ious, and  a  devotee  to  externals.  It  pleased  her 
that  he  should  look  with  covert  eagerness  toward 
the  house,  that  he  should  distantly  and  respect- 
fully admire  her,  and  that  she  should  subtly  di- 
vine his  admiration.  Since,  however,  the  vanity 
which  receives  homage  as  due  is  more  exacting 


14  FELICIA. 

than  the  vanity  which  asserts  a  claim,  the  affair 
was  not  likely  to  go  further  but  for  the  inter- 
position of  accident. 

The  accident  was  of  an  obvious  and  simple 
nature  —  merely  an  afternoon  call. 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  take  the  phaeton  and 
go  over  to  see  Amy,"  remarked  Miss  Hamilton  to 
her  sister-in-law,  one  day,  "  provided  I  can  secure 
the  society  of  the  festive  Frederick." 

It  was  the  habit  in  the  Hamilton  family  to 
allude  to  the  eight-year-old  son  of  the  house  with 
a  sort  of  caressing  mockery,  in  phrases  of  doubt- 
ful value  as  witticisms,  but  of  humorous  intent. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  replied  that  it  was  a  pleasant 
day  for  the  trip,  and  that  the  horse  and  phaeton 
were  entirely  at  their  service. 

The  "  festive  Frederick  "  was  four  feet  high 
and  fractious.  To  find  him  was  a  matter  of  diffi- 
culty. When  found,  he  declared  tumultuously 
that  he  would  rather  dieHhan  go  to  call  at  cousin 
Arny's,  —  a  reckless  assertion,  since  he  was 
mounted  on  a  bicycle,  and  destruction  seemed  to 
menace  him  at  every  yard  of  his  tottering  pro- 
gress. There  was  a  swift  exchange  of  argument 
and  counter-argument.  The  nephew  deftly  re- 
clined on  his  tall  steed  against  a  convenient  tree- 
box,  his  distorted  shadow  stretching  along  the 
sidewalk  among  the  dappling  similitudes  of  the 
maple  leaves.  A  golden  haze  was  in  the  air  ;  down 
the  vista  of  the  street  might  be  seen  a  vast  spread 
of  clustering  roofs ;  spires  caught  the  light  and 
glittered. 


FELICIA.  15 

"  Very  well,"  said  Felicia  at  last.  "  I  dare  say 
I  can  go  alone.  Sometimes  there  are  cows  on  the 
streets  ;  probably  I  shall  meet  some  ;  and  if  cou- 
sin Robert  is  not  at  his  house,  or  if  he  is  too  busy 
to  drive  me  home,  I  may  have  to  come  back  by 
myself." 

There  was  a  pause.  The  boy  on  the  bicycle 
wore  a  troubled  and  thoughtful  air. 

"  They  have  a  good  many  fires  in  this  city," 
continued  the  young  lady,  discursively,  "  and  when 
the  engines  bang  a  gong  and  tear  along  they 
always  frighten  me.  However,  perhaps  I  can 
take  care  of  myself." 

She  turned  away  resignedly. 

The  heart  that  beat  so  ambitiously  on  the  giddy 
mount  was  a  chivalric  heart  enough,  after  all. 
There  was  a  short  scuffle  of  descent,  and  the  two 
set  out  in  amity. 

The  Reverend  Robert  Raymond  lived  in  a  por- 
tion of  the  city  so  secluded  that  it  had  a  village- 
like  aspect.  Farther  west  were  miles  of  staring, 
new,  ted  brick  dwellings  and  corner  groceries, 
drug  stores,  livery  stables,  all  important  and  busy 
with  neighborhood  trade  ;  but  this  retired  region 
the  march  of  improvement,  in  some  inexplicable 
freak,  had  spared.  Grass  and  trees  surrounded 
most  of  the  houses,  which  were  old-fashioned, 
roomy,  not  altogether  convenient  according  to  ex- 
acting modern  standards,  but  sufficiently  comfort- 
able. Among  them  was  a  large,  square,  two-story 
brick  dwelling,  with  a  wide  veranda  in  front.  The 


16  FELICIA. 

shadows  were  long  on  the  grass,  streaked  with  the 
yellow  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun,  as  Miss  Hamil- 
ton and  her  youthful  escort  took  their  way  up  the 
gravel  walk. 

A  man  like  the  rector  of  St.  Paul's  usually  has 
some  hobby.  His  hobby  was  the  art  of  garden- 
ing. He  never  accomplished  anything  very  re- 
markable ;  the  aid  of  professionals  was  the  sole 
reliance  before  the  season  was  well  advanced. 
But  when  he  pridefully  surveyed  the  result  of 
their  joint  efforts,  his  calm  arrogation  to  himself 
singly  of  the  entire  merit  of  his  garden  was  a 
thing  to  behold ;  and  every  spring  his  faith  that 
his  own  work  would  supply  the  family  with  toma- 
toes and  Hubbard  squash  was  as  consummate  as 
his  faith  in  the  Creed.  Experience  taught  him 
nothing,  for  cousin  Robert  was  one  of  those  lucky 
souls  who  believe  the  thing  that  they  wish  to  be- 
lieve. Felicia  saw  him  now  in  the  kitchen  garden 
at  the  side  of  the  house,  plying  his  rake  among 
the  lettuce ;  apparently  a  painful  operation,  for 
he  was  a  long  man,  and  the  rake  was  a  particu- 
larly short  rake,  being,  in  fact,  his  wife's  imple- 
ment for  use  among  the  verbenas.  Felicia's  was 
not  a  temperament  to  sympathize  with  this  sort  of 
pursuit.  "  Always  pottering,"  she  said  to  herself, 
with  half-affectionate,  half-contemptuous  indigna- 
tion. "  And  if  he  must  potter,  why  will  he 
break  his  back  with  Amy's  little  old  rake  ?  " 

Her  disapproval  was  not,  however,  sufficient  to 
mar  the  cordiality  of  her  look  and  gesture  —  for 


FELICIA.  17 

she  was  fond  of  cousin  Robert  —  as  she  passed 
through  the  garden  gate  and  went  swiftly  toward 
him,  both  hands  outstretched  and  a  gay  greeting 
on  her  lips.  Those  dewy  red  lips  were  smiling ; 
her  eyes  were  softly  bright ;  a  rich  bloom  mantled 
her  delicate  cheek ;  her  musical  laughter  rang  out. 
To  the  man  lounging  on  the  green  bench  in  the 
grape-arbor  near  at  hand,  half  concealed  by  the 
swaying  branches,  she  seemed  the  embodiment  of 
the  gracious  season ;  as  joyous,  as  brilliant,  as  ex- 
pressive of  life  and  light,  hope  and  promise,  as 
the  early  summer-time  itself.  For,  serious  and 
unimpressionable  as  he  looked,  Hugh  Kennett 
had  an  imagination.  His  Pegasus  had,  to  be  sure, 
been  bitted,  and  bridled,  and  trained  to  run  for 
the  cup,  but  on  occasion  it  might  bolt  like  many 
a  less  experienced  racer.  Thus  it  was  that  Mr. 
Kennett  evolved  a  personation  instead  of  seeing 
merely  a  beautiful  young  woman,  moving  with 
ease  and  grace,  speaking  with  a  refined  accent, 
and  dressed,  with  a  certain  individuality  of  taste, 
in  a  light  gray  costume,  embroidered  elaborately 
and  delicately  with  purple  pansies  that  matched 
well  her  dark  eyes.  Being  a  man  of  taste  as  well 
as  imagination,  and  particularly  alert  as  to  the 
minutiae  of  effect,  her  attitude,  the  harmonies  of 
the  colors  she  wore,  the  dainty  details,  appealed 
as  strongly,  tnougn  less  poetically,  to  his  culti- 
vated perceptions. 

At  the  souuu  01  ner  voice,  Mr.  Raymond  turned, 
with  a  start,     bne  was  a  little  chilled  by  a  sug- 


18  FELICIA. 

gestion  of  constraint  in  his  tones  and  manner,  ap- 
parent when  he  greeted  her,  and  still  more  when 
he  introduced  his  companion,  whom  until  now  she 
had  not  seen.  Hugh  Kennett  had  risen  ;  he  had 
a  cigar  in  his  hand.  He  was  looking  at  her  with 
attention ;  their  eyes  met. 

Madame  Sevier's  training  did  not  comprehend 
every  emergency.  Notwithstanding  her  habit  of 
society,  the  young  lady  was  for  a  moment  embar- 
rassed ;  she  flushed  deeply,  and  her  perceptible 
timidity  contrasted  agreeably  with  her  manner  an 
instant  ago. 

"  You  are  always  busy,  cousin  Robert,"  she 
said,  glancing  down  at  the  lettuce,  and  conscious 
of  the  extreme  flatness  of  her  remark. 

"  Say,  cousin  Robert,"  exclaimed  Fred,  who  had 
delayed  to  exchange  greetings  with  a  very  old, 
very  fat,  very  dignified  pointer  on  the  veranda, 
and  who  now  came  up  with  the  eagerness  of  the 
small  boy  to  participate  in  the  conversation,  — 
"  say,  why  n't  ye  sen'  yer  peas,  an'  squashes,  an' 
apples,  ter  the  fair,  nex'  fall?  I  jus'  know  yer  'd 
git  the  prize.  Say,  won't  yer  sen'  some  ov  'em 
this  year  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  cousin 
Robert,  leading  the  way  to  the  house. 

"  Oh,  you  bet  I  would,  if  I  was  a  man  an'  had 
a  garden  !  "  cried  the  boy,  attempting  to  possess 
himself  of  the  rake  of  the  reverend  gentleman, 
who  in  turn  attempted  to  playfully  elude  him,  and 
succeeded  in  making  it  apparent  that  no  juvenile 
amateur  gardening  was  desired. 


FELICIA.  19 

By  the  time  the  party  reached  the  veranda, 
where  two  ladies  in  white  dresses  were  profuse  in 
hospitable  greetings  and  offers  of  the  cane  chairs 
that  were  grouped  about  in  the  shadow  of  the 
vines,  Felicia's  unwonted  embarrassment  had 
worn  away,  and  she  was  mischievously  amused  by 
the  look  of  anxious  inquiry  which  Amy  cast  upon 
Robert  and  the  shade  of  discomfort  on  his  face. 
In  her  youthful  self-sufficiency  she  suddenly  ar- 
rived, as  she  fancied,  at  an  explanation  of  their 
disquiet.  "  Cousin  Robert  seemed  to  find  the  intro- 
duction a  trial,"  she  reflected,  rapidly.  "  And 
the  other  day  he  wished  to  prevent  me  from  see- 
ing that  they  know  his  friend,  whom  he  appar- 
ently desires  to  keep  in  jeweler's  cotton.  Does 
he  consider  me  so  dangerous  as  all  that,  —  such 
an  ogre  that  they  are  afraid  for  their  precious 
Hugh  Kennett  ?  I  think,  I  really  think,  Felicia," 
she  concluded,  gleefully  apostrophizing  herself, 
"  you  must  give  your  cousin  Robert  something  to 
be  uneasy  about." 

By  way  of  accomplishing  this  purpose  she  pro- 
ceeded per  ambages.  Mr.  Raymond,  accustomed 
to  her  vivacity,  it  may  even  be  admitted  her  lo- 
quacity, was  thrown  off  his  guard.  Madame 
Sevier,  a  very  wise  person  in  a  certain  sense,  had 
numerous  theories  as  to  the  elements  which  go  to 
make  that  finished  expression  of  society,  a  charm- 
ing woman,  and  one  of  these  was  apropos  of  the 
unloveliness  of  talk.  "  Talk,"  she  would  declare, 
"  is  not  conversation.  The  greatest  enemy  a 


20  FELICIA. 

woman  of  mind  mnst  contend  against  is  her  own 
tongue.  It  is  not  what  she  has  to  say  that  mat- 
ters ;  it  is  what  she  is.  If  a  beautiful  girl's  fac- 
ulties are  absorbed  in  expressing  her  ideas,  which 
in  the  nature  of  things  are  not  valuable,  she  loses 
what  is  both  valuable  and  artistic,  —  the  charm  of 
her  individuality.  A  certain  phase  of  intellectual 
adolescence  is  interesting  because  of  its  possibilities 
and  its  divinations,  but  this  must  disappear  as 
soon  as  the  assumptions  of  the  thinker  come  to  be 
considered,  —  especially  when  they  are  urged  with 
the  fatally  didactic  manner  which  seems  to  be  in- 
separable from  every  woman  who  has  '  views.'  " 

Perhaps  her  favorite  pupil  had  profited  by 
these  axioms  ;  perhaps  she  was  silent  only  because 
she  had  become  interested  in  the  talk  of  the 
others ;  certainly,  to  those  who  knew  her  best  she 
had  never  appeared  to  such  advantage.  She  was 
a  conspicuous  figure  in  her  circle,  and  it  was  the 
habit  of  her  friends  to  discuss  her  much,  compar- 
ing her  to  herself  on  different  occasions,  —  what 
she  wore,  how  she  looked,  what  she  said.  This 
afternoon  there  was  a  sort  of  still  brilliance  upon 
her ;  though  she  spoke  seldom,  her  smile  held  the 
charm  of  an  indefinite,  delightful  promise  ;  a  cer- 
tain eloquence  of  expression  shone  in  her  bright, 
dark  eyes. 

Sundry  theories  were  not  included  in  cousin 
Robert's  philosophy.  It  did  not  occur  to  him 
that  the  young  lady  talked  to  him  much  because 
she  considered  him  little ;  he  took  heart  of  grace. 


FELICIA.  21 

"  A  dashing  girl  like  Felicia  would  never  give  a 
second  thought  to  such  a  sedate  fellow  as  Ken- 
nett,"  he  assured  himself. 

Deprived  of  Miss  Hamilton's  conversational 
aptitude,  the  party  on  Mr.  Raymond's  veranda 
presented,  however,  no  aspect  of  Carthusian  or 
Trappist  gathering.  His  mother-in-law,  Mrs. 
Emily  Stanley-Brant,  was  visiting  the  young  cou- 
ple, and  she  had  no  theories  as  to  the  unloveliness 
of  talk.  She  kindly  entertained  the  company. 

Now,  everybody  knows,  or  ought  to  know,  that 
it  was^  a  great  blessing  to  have  been  born  one  of 
the  Stanleys.  The  reasons  why  this  was  a  bless- 
ing ai-e  so  apparent  as  to  need  no  explanation ; 
the  Stanleys  being  so  highly  reputable  and  esti- 
mable a  family,  well  endowed  with  this  world's 
goods,  and  holding  additional  prominence  because 
possessing  certain  political  and  legal  magnates. 
It  was  particularly  appropriate  that  this  represen- 
tative of  the  Stanleys  should  have  added  lustre  to 
the  family  by  her  marriage  to  a  certain  notable 
ex-Governor  Brant.  Although  he  was  greatly 
her  senior,  it  seemed  as  much  a  love-match  as  so 
ambitious  a  woman  might  achieve.  A  man  who 
had  gone  so  often  to  Congress,  and  who  had  sat 
for  many  years  on  the  judicial  bench,  fulfilled 
the  most  exacting  ideal  of  which  she  could  con- 
ceive, even  had  his  personal  character  been  less 
valuable  than  that  of  the  unexceptionable  but  pro- 
saic old  gentleman  she  survived.  He  had  been 
long  since  gathered  to  his  fathers,  but  still  lived 


22  FELICIA. 

in  the  reverential,  if  discursive,  reminiscences  of 
his  relict.  How  he  rose  by  degrees  to  eminence  ; 
how  he  was  elected  by  overwhelming  majorities  to 
the  State  legislature,  to  Congress,  to  the  United 
States  Senate  ;  his  friends,  his  enemies,  the  causes 
he  espoused,  the  policies  he  deprecated,  —  Mrs. 
Emily  Stanley-Brant's  acquaintances  sometimes 
heard  of  these  things.  The  gentleman  whose  tri- 
umphs were  thus  celebrated  had  been  a  respecta- 
ble enough  politician  of  the  old  school,  and  it  is 
very  creditable  to  human  nature  that  it  was  possi- 
ble for  wifely  pride  to  transform  him  into  a  hero. 

Her  faith  in  him  served  the  double  purpose  of 
keeping  his  memory  green,  and  of  warding  off 
from  the  endangered  company  cousin  Robert's 
account  —  which  he  was  aching  to  give  —  of  the 
steps  he  had  taken  last  autumn  with  the  straw- 
berries, and  the  extremely  satisfactory  result  at- 
tained by  planting  in  hills  and  cutting  away  all 
runners.  The  nethermost  abysses  were  not  imme- 
diately reached.  The  conversation  was  not  agri- 
cultural, and  the  worst  that  the  party  was  called 
upon  for  a  time  to  endure  was  the  mellow  con- 
tralto of  Mrs.  Brant  reciting  her  reminiscences. 

The  ex-governor  as  a  theme  was  not  forced 
upon  the  company.  She  was  not  malapropos ;  in- 
deed, he  was  merely  introduced  en  passant,  in  an 
allusion  to  Hugh  Kennett's  father,  —  in  a  tributary 
manner,  as  it  were,  to  the  personal  conversation. 

"  Your  name  is  very  familiar  to  me,  Mr.  Ken- 
nett,"  she  said,  smiling  upon  him  across  the 


FELICIA.  23 

veranda,  as  she  sat  by  Felicia's  side.  "  I  remem- 
ber your  father  well.  I  saw  him  a  number  of 
times  when  I  was  first  in  Washington.  He  was 
quite  a  young  man,  but  already  notable  in  his 
profession.  My  husband  had  then  just  been 
elected  to  Congress  on  the  Whig  ticket,  —  ah,  such 
a  hard-fought  contest,  Mr.  Kennett !  Party  feel- 
ing ran  high  in  those  times.  People  had  no  luke- 
warm blood  in  their  veins  then."  Her  manner 
suggested  a  certain  triumph  in  the  political  ani- 
mosities of  the  old  days.  "  Only  Governor  Brant's 
personal  popularity  carried  him  through.  He 
had  his  own  views  of  political  measures,  and  the 
event  justified  him,  —  yes,  indeed,  always  justi- 
fied him." 

She  spoke  in  an  even,  agreeable  voice ;  the  very 
tone  embodied  so  entire  a  faith  in  her  own  words 
that  it  imposed  concurrence.  She  had  a  hand- 
some face,  of  a  somewhat  imperial  type  ;  dark,  ex- 
pressive eyes ;  a  small,  finely  shaped  head,  held 
well  back  ;  glossy  chestnut  hair,  —  showing  an 
occasional  gleam  of  gray  in  its  abundance,  — 
which  was  brushed  in  waving  masses  on  each  side 
of  her  broad,  high  brow,  and  arranged  in  a  heavy 
coil  at  the  back  of  her  head.  She  was  tall  and 
imposing,  and  moved  with  a  majestic  grace ;  her 
manner  expressed  kindness,  consideration,  even 
deference,  and  yet  instilled,  in  some  brilliant, 
subtle  way,  the  idea  that  she  could  well  afford  to 
be  so  polite,  being  Mrs.  Emily  Stanley-Brant. 

Some  very  thin-skinned  people  interpreted  this 


24  FELICIA. 

manner  of  conciliation  and  subcurrent  of  satisfac- 
tion as  condescension,  which  Felicia  Hamilton,  in 
the  exercise  of  a  talent  that  she  possessed,  the 
talent  of  vicariously  experiencing,  divined  that 
this  stranger  in  especial  must  find  rather  marked. 
Mrs.  Brant  was  almost  offensively  gracious  to 
Mr.  Kennett :  she  selected  him  to  the  exclusion 
of  the  others  as  the  recipient  of  her  remarks ;  she 
bent  upon  him  her  most  amiable  smile. 

"  You  resemble  your  father,"  she  said ;  "  yes, 
very  much.  And  I  am  told  that  you  inherit  his 
talents.  The  tones  of  your  voice  in  speaking  re- 
mind me  of  him.  Very  remarkable  man,  and 
very  successful,  —  yes,  indeed.  My  husband  at 
once  predicted  his  success.  '  That  young  man,' 
he  said  to  me,  '  that  young  Kennett,  will  rise 
high,  mark  my  words.'  And  the  prediction  was 
verified,  —  yes,  indeed.  Your  father  held  a  high 
place  in  his  calling,  —  no  doubt  about  that." 

Her  politeness  was  so  extreme  that  it  was  fla- 
vored with  the  sentiment  of  noblesse  oblige. 
"  How  does  our  gentleman  like  to  be  patted  on 
the  back  in  that  style  ?  "  thought  Felicia,  in  secret 
amusement.  She  glanced  at  him,  but  his  face 
told  her  nothing.  It  seemed  now  a  singularly  in- 
expressive face,  or  he  held  it  in  singularly  strong 
control.  His  gray  eyes  were  fixed  on  Mrs.  Brant's 
handsome  countenance,  he  made  the  proper  mur- 
mur of  assent  and  reply,  and  this  was  all;  and  it 
baffled  Felicia.  "  Perhaps  he  is  only  stupid," 
she  thought,  in  disgust. 


FELICIA.  25 

"  Your  father  had  a  very  full,  rotund  voice," 
pursued  Mrs.  Brant.  "  I  should  judge  that  he 
sang  well." 

"  He  only  sang  a  little  for  his  own  pleasure," 
answered  the  visitor.  "  He  never  studied." 

"  The  talent  for  music  should  ahoays  be  culti- 
vated," continued  Mrs.  Brant,  never  dropping 
that  soupqon  of  condescension.  "  A  beautiful 
art,  Mr.  Kennett.  And  it  is  such  a  pity  that  so 
much  money  is  spent  upon  it  to  so  little  purpose. 
Now,  there  's  my  Amy.  I  said,  '  Now,  my  child, 
Nature  has  done  her  part,'  —  a  lovely  natural 
voice,  Mr.  Kennett,  high  and  sweet ;  you  would 
be  surprised.  I  sent  her  North,  I  secured  the 
best  professors.  And  the  result  is  "  —  she  held 
up  her  soft  white  hands  expressively,  palms  out- 
ward, as  if  to  show  the  company  that  nothing  was 
in  them  —  "  the  result  is  —  all  wasted  !  She 
hasn't  opened  a  piano  a  dozen  times  since  her 
marriage  !  " 

Four  pairs  of  eyes  turned  upon  the  abashed 
Amy,,  who  seemed  very  youthful  as  she  looked 
deprecatingly  up  from  under  her  fair  hair.  Mr. 
Kennett's  voice  took  on  something  of  the  reassur- 
ing tone  with  which  one  encourages  a  timid  child. 

"  Why  do  you  give  up  your  singing,  cousin 
Amy  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,"  she  hesitated,  "  Robert  does  n't  care  for 
music." 

He  glanced  at  Raymond  with  a  smile.  Then 
his  eyes  met  Felicia's. 


26  FELICIA. 

"You  and  Amy  are  cousins?"  she  asked,  in 
surprise.  "  I  did  n't  know  that." 

"  Robert  and  I  are  cousins,"  he  explained. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  said. 

Was  it  inadvertence,  was  it  coquetry  ?  While 
his  eyes  were  still  on  her  face,  her  lips  curved 
softly  into  a  smile  ;  those  dainty  dimples  appeared 
on  her  cheeks ;  her  purple  eyes,  so  dark,  yet  so 
bright,  were  smiling,  too.  She  looked  straight  at 
him. 

"  Do  I  understand  this  ?  "  she  said,  innocently. 
"  If  you  are  Robert's  cousin,  of  course  you  are 
Amy's  cousin,  and  Amy  is  my  cousin,  —  and  are 
you  my  cousin,  too  ?  "  She  raised  her  delicate 
dark  eyebrows  inquiringly. 

Mrs.  Stanley-Brant  gasped  a  little.  Mr.  Ray- 
mond frowned.  Amy  had  the  air  of  cowering 
back  into  the  recesses  of  her  big  cane  armchair. 
Hugh  Kennett's  eyes  were  steadily  fixed  on  Miss 
Hamilton's  face.  He  did  not  quite  interpret  her. 
He  was  not  sure  if  this  were  naivete  or  intention. 
He  only  knew  that  a  very  beautiful  woman  was 
looking  at  him  with  the  most  delightful  expression 
he  had  ever  seen.  He  had  had  a  wide  experience 
of  life,  sometimes  sordid,  sometimes  imbued  with 
a  certain  brilliance  ;  he  thought  he  had  forgotten, 
among  more  tangible  aims  and  emotions,  the  thrill 
and  vague  complexity  of  feeling  which  stirred  him 
for  an  instant.  A  dark  flush  mounted  slowly  to 
his  face.  He  said  gravely  that  to  be  even  a  dis- 
tant relative  of  hers  would  be  a  great  privilege. 


FELICIA.  27 

The  training  of  Madame  Sevier's  pupil,  if  no 
thing  more,  made  her  abundantly  aware  that  her 
freak  was  inexcusable,  but  it  must  be  confessed 
that  she  experienced  no  penitence.  She  was 
pleased  with  the  stiffness  of  his  reply ;  she  was 
mischievously  delighted  with  the  discomfiture  of 
the  others,  although  it  had  begun  to  greatly  puzzle 
her. 

Cousin  Robert  was  not  destined  to  remain  in 
disastrous  eclipse.  In  the  somewhat  awkward 
pause  that  ensued,  it  chanced  that  the  breeze 
stirred  suddenly  with  an  audible  murmur  the  foli- 
age about  the  veranda.  It  seemed  to  him  very 
adroit  to  call  attention  to  the  honeysuckle  vines 
intertwined  in  cables  about  the  posts,  and  tell  how 
they  should  be  planted,  pruned,  and  trained. 
This  led,  by  one  of  those  easy  digressions  which 
come  so  deftly  to  men  of  his  profession,  to  the 
subject  of  horticulture  generally,  and  he  elabo- 
rated at  some  length  his  theory  of  the  proper 
system  in  the  case  of  the  tomato  plant :  that  it 
should  be  trained  against  trellises  ;  that  the  prin- 
cipal stalk  should  be  allowed  to  branch  out  lat- 
erally; that  all  other  branches  should  be  ruth- 
lessly suppressed ;  that  half  the  blooms  should  be 
pinched  off  while  yet  in  the  bud,  —  what  did  cou- 
sin Robert  care  for  Irishisms  on  a  theme  like  this  ? 
—  that  it  should  be  sprinkled  generously  before 
sunrise  and  after  sunset  in  dry  weather.  "  And 
in  six  weeks,"  he  declared,  triumphantly,  "  I  shall 
be  able  to  give  you  tomatoes,  cultivated  on  this 


28  FELICIA. 

principle,  luscious  as  strawberries,  red  as  blood, 
and  big  as  my  hat." 

And  while  he  thus  held  forth  the  twilight  ad- 
vanced apace.  The  afterglow  of  the  sunset  sifted 
through  the  leaves  on  Felicia  Hamilton's  face,  all 
etherealized  by  the  poetic  light,  and  touched  with 
a  soft  gleam  her  violet  eyes,  as  they  rested  on  the 
shadow-flecked  turf  outside.  Far  away  the  rum- 
bling of  an  occasional  horse-car,  or  the  lighter  roll 
of  buggies  carrying  suburban  residents  homeward, 
invaded  the  stillness.  There  was  a  lakelet,  or 
perhaps  only  a  miasmatic  pool,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, from  which  frogs  croaked  in  strophe  and 
antistrophe,  —  the  sound  mellowed  by  the  dis- 
tance. The  air  was  imbued  with  that  primal  en- 
chantment of  summer  which  belittles  all  coming 
later,  —  the  delicious  fragrance  of  honeysuckle  ; 
it  seemed  to  have  lured  two  humming-birds  from 
their  downy  domiciles,  and  they  were  evidently 
gayly  bent  upon  making  a  night  of  it,  as  they 
quaffed  the  sweet  wine  of  the  flowers  in  the  lin- 
gering flush  of  the  red  sunset. 

"  Them  hum'n'-birds  ain't  no  good,"  remarked 
Fred.  "  They  can't  sing,  an'  they  're  so  little  an' 
teen-ty." 

He  gazed  up  at  the  fluttering  things,  as  airy,  as 
alluring,  as  vaguely  glancing,  as  a  fancy,  a  fasci- 
nation, a  dream,  the  impulse  of  a  poem  yet  un- 
written. 

"  Swans  !  "  he  continued,  enthusiastically,  — 
;'  they  're  the  fellers  fur  my  money.  Them  swans 
at  the  Pawk,  eh,  aunt  F'lish  ?  " 


FELICIA.  29 

He  rolled  over  on  his  side,  as  he  lay  at  her  feet 
on  the  floor,  and  changed  the  position  of  his  head, 
which  he  had  pillowed  on  the  old  pointer,  who 
moaned  and  wheezed  in  meek  objection. 

"  It  is  my  privilege,"  said  Miss  Hamilton,  ris- 
ing, "  to  drive  with  this  young  man  to  the  Park 
every  Saturday  afternoon,  the  one  meagre  holiday 
that  falls  to  his  toilsome  scholastic  lot.  If  he 
does  n't  go  home  and  get  some  sleep,  he  may  not 
be  able  to  make  the  trip  to-morrow.  So  we  must 
tear  ourselves  away." 

Fred  rose  nimbly.  "  An'  we  have  most  bully 
drives  ter  the  Pawk,  you  bet !  "  he  exclaimed,  vi- 
vaciously. "  An'  we  ain't  missed  a  Sat'day  since 
she  's  been  in  town." 

Mr.  Raymond  accompanied  them  to  the  gate, 
and  assisted  Felicia  into  the  phaeton.  Soon  the 
clatter  of  hoofs  and  the  roll  of  wheels  arose,  as 
they  disappeared  down  the  street  into  the  purple 
shadows  of  the  coming  twilight. 


III. 

ABOUT  four  o'clock  on  warm  afternoons,  there 
was  an  interval  of  quiet,  almost  of  somnolence,  in 
the  Lawrence  Hotel.  The  rush  of  lunch  was 
over  ;  that  of  dinner  had  not  begun  ;  no  trains 
were  due  or  departing ;  the  glare  was  tempered 
to  a  cool  half-light ;  decorous  officials  lounged 
behind  their  desks.  When  a  voice  fell  upon  the 
air  from  the  direction  of  the  bar-room  it  seemed 
peculiarly  loud  and  assertive,  being  rotund  and 
penetrating  in  quality,  and  invading  the  stillness 
argumentatively.  It  was  interrupted  by  another, 
a  deep  bass,  embroidered,  so  to  speak,  by  several 
bursts  of  rich  laughter.  Then  the  marble  floor 
resounded  with  rapid  footfalls.  One  of  the  men 
who  entered  hurriedly  was  a  slim,  wiry,  active 
fellow,  perhaps  thirty-five  years  of  age ;  he  was 
much  flushed,  his  steps  were  unsteady,  and  he  be- 
trayed a  tendency  to  emphatic  gesticulation.  His 
features  were  irregular  and  very  mobile ;  his  eyes 
were  gray  and  deep-set ;  heavy  wrinkles  about  his 
mouth  and  brow  made  him  seem  older  than  he 
was.  His  suit  of  blue  flannel  needed  brushing, 
and  his  straw  hat,  set  far  back  on  his  head,  also 
gave  evidence  of  careless  wear.  His  companion 
was  younger,  tall,  brunette,  slim,  debonair,  point- 


FELICIA.  81 

device  as  to  his  perfectly  fitting  light  gray  suit, 
and  joyous  as  to  spirits.  These  two  emerged  into 
the  office  as  Hugh  Kennett  entered  from  the 
street.  At  sight  of  him  the  younger  pushed  in 
advance  of  his  companion. 

"  Hello,  Kennett !  "  he  cried,  in  his  deep,  gay 
voice.  "  You  're  just  in  time.  Look  at  Abbott ; 
he's  trying  to  shirk  his  just  obligations  in  the 
shabbiest  way,"  and  his  full,  rich  laughter  vi- 
brated on  the  air. 

"  It 's  all  right !  "  exclaimed  Abbott,  coming 
to  a  sudden  stop,  and  confronting  Kennett  with  a 
grave,  flushed  face  and  an  argumentative  eye. 
"  Fell'r  don't  want  t'  be  swindled,  ye  know. 
Don't  propose  to  pay  more  'n  ought  to  pay, — 
matter  princ'ple,  ye  see." 

A  clerk  from  the  bar-room,  a  fresh-faced  young 
man,  evidently  inexperienced  and  oppressed  by  a 
sense  of  conflicting  duties,  the  propitiation  of 
patrons  and  the  responsibility  to  his  employers, 
had  followed  the  two  with  hesitation.  He  also 
quickened  his  steps  at  sight  of  Kennett,  and,  ad- 
dressing him  by  name,  explained,  with  some 
vague  effort  to  make  light  of  the  matter,  that  this 
gentleman  had  "  treated  "  a  number  of  his  friends 
the  previous  evening,  and  now  complained  of  the 
amount  of  his  bill. 

"  Could  n't  have  drunk  all  that  champagne, 
Kennett,"  declared  Abbott,  looking  with  tipsy 
solemnity  into  the  other's  eyes,  "  if  we  'd  all 
been  damned  fishes,  w'ales,  ye  know ;  give  y'  m' 
word  we  could  n't." 


32  FELICIA. 

The  young  man  in  the  gray  suit  again  burst 
into  laughter  ;  it  was  rather  loud.  He  was  con- 
tradictorily gentlemanly  and  prononce  ;  he  was 
too  dashing  for  good  style,  yet  he  had  ease  and 
smoothness.  He  made  a  comical  grimace,  which 
was  at  once  irresistible  and  reprehensible. 

"  The  thing 's  impossible.  They  're  trying  to 
swindle  you,"  he  said. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Preston,  you  carry  a  joke 
to  extremes  ?  "  demanded  Kennett,  glancing  with 
annoyance  at  the  group  attracted  by  the  loud 
voices,  and  wearing  faces  in  which  curiosity  and 
contemptuous  amusement  were  blended.  Then 
he  turned  to  Abbott.  "  You  will  be  late,  if  you 
don't  look  out." 

"  Nev'r  fear,  old  fell'r.  Made  a  hit  last  night ; 
goin'  t'  make  a  ten  strike  to-night,  —  see  'f  I 
don't.  Goin'  t'  fly  high,  —  bet  all  ye  're  worth 
on  that.  Goin'  t'  float  with  wind  an'  tide,  — 
see  'f  I  don't.  Goin'  t'  make  my  fortune." 

He  uttered  this  string  of  incompatible  similes 
with  an  airy  wave  of  the  hand  which,  if  he  had 
been  sober,  might  have  been  eminently  graceful. 

"  You  have  made  your  fortune  already.  You 
had  better  take  a  carriage  *now  and  go  home. 
He  is  not  fit  for  anything,  Preston.  Why  don't 
you  get  him  away  ?  " 

But  Abbott  laid  his  hand  on  Kennett's  shoulder. 
"  You  're  my  bes'  friend,  Kennett,"  he  declared. 
"  You  saw  what  I  could  do.  You  understood  me. 
You  pushed  me.  Old  Hoax'em  never  would  have 


FELICIA.  33 

found  out  what  was  in  me  if  you  .had  n't  put  him 
up  to  it.  You  're  my  bes'  —  bes'  friend." 

He  began  to  show  alarming  lachrymose  symp 
toms.  There  was  a  touch  of  real  feeling  in  his 
voice,  but  also  no  little  of  the  pathos  of  alcohol  in 
various  forms.  The  spectators  grinned.  Ken- 
netfc  shook  him  off  impatiently.  Preston  again 
burst  into  laughter,  and,  catching  Abbott's  arm, 
dragged  him  to  the  door,  while  Kennett  walked 
back  to  the  bar-room  with  the  custodian  of  liquid 
treasures. 

"  Sorry  to  trouble  you,  sir,"  said  the  anxious, 
fresh-faced  young  clerk,  as  Kennett  paid  the  resi- 
due of  the  bill,  which  Abbott,  in  his  wisdom,  had 
seen  fit  to  eliminate. 

"  It  will  be  all  right  when  he  gets  sober." 

"  That  fellow  seems  considerable  of  a  scamp," 
observed  an  old  gentleman  standing  near,  who 
took  his  straight. 

Kennett  loyally  denied  it.  "  He  is  a  good  fel- 
low and  very  talented,"  he  declared,  "  but  he  has 
some  friends  who  like  to  see  him  make  a  fool  of 
himself." 

By  the  time  he  returned  to  the  office  it  had  re- 
sumed the  normal  quiet  of  the  hour.  He  threw 
himself  into  one  of  the  red  velvet  armchairs, 
lighted  a  cigar,  and  took  up  a  newspaper.  He 
glanced  at  it  a  few  moments,  then  let  it  fall  on  his 
knee.  The  noises  on  the  street  were  languid  and 
intermittent ;  nobody  came  or  went.  He  took  his 
cigar  from  his  lips,  eyed  it  meditatively,  then< 


84  FELICIA. 

suddenly,  "  Why  not  ?  "  he  said,  —  "  why  not?  " 
and  rose  to  his  feet.  He  replaced  his  cigar,  threw 
aside  his  paper,  and  walked,  not  briskly,  —  he 
never  walked  briskly,  —  but  with  a  certain  defi- 
niteness  of  intention,  to  the  door.  The  jangling 
of  an  approaching  street-car  bell  grew  momently 
louder,  as  he  waited  under  the  striped  awning. 
He  walked  out  into  the  blinding  sunshine,  stepped 
upon  the  platform,  and  was  borne  with  sufficient 
expedition  toward  the  suburbs. 

In  the  week  that  had  elapsed  since  he  met  Miss 
Hamilton  he  had  seen  her  once  or  twice  at  the 
windows  of  her  brother's  house,  and  once  in  the 
perspective  of  the  side  yard,  where,  among  the 
ornamental  shrubbery,  there  were  garden-seats  in 
the  shade,  and  a  fountain  that  played  in  the  sun- 
shine. A  lady  was  with  her,  and  several  chil- 
dren. He  recognized  Fred's  voice,  half  unintel- 
ligible because  of  overweening  enthusiasm.  It 
seemed  a  vivacious  family  group.  For  the  past 
day  or  so,  however,  she  had  not  been  visible. 
He  thought  she  had  probably  left  town.  Last 
evening  this  conjecture  was  disproved.  He  passed 
the  house  about  eleven  o'clock.  It  was  brilliantly 
lighted,  but  the  blinds  were  closed,  except  in  one 
of  the  parlor  windows.  He  heard  the  murmur 
of  voices  and  laughter.  For  one  instant,  through 
the  square  of  the  window,  the  head  and  shoulders 
of  the  young  lady  were  visible  as  she  crossed 
the  room.  In  the  swift  transit  something  pink 
which  she  was  wearing  poetically  took  on  the 


FELICIA.  35 

similitude  of  a  rosy  cloud,  from  which  her  face 
shone  like  a  star.  A  gentleman  was  beside  her 
—  blonde,  handsome,  young.  They  made  a  pretty 
picture  for  the  instant  that  they  might  be  seen. 
"  She  is  having  a  fine  time,"  said  Hugh  Kennett. 
"  I  suppose  that  's  the  favored  suitor."  He 
laughed  at  himself,  a  moment  later.  "  I  seem  to 
have  a  grudge  against  that  youngster,"  he  said, 
"  because  she  sits  at  the  window  —  sometimes." 
And  he  went  on  in  the  light  of  the  summer  moon. 
To  paraphrase  a  well-known  apothegm,  if  you 
do  not  entertain  your  frivolous  young  lady,  she 
will  entertain  herself.  Up  to  this  time  Miss 
Hamilton  had  had  every  faculty  of  an  alert,  re- 
ceptive, retentive  intellect  trained  to  its  utmost 
possibility  in  an  entirely  personal  direction.  Af- 
fairs of  general  moment,  every  phase  of  outside 
life,  of  thought,  of  culture,  had  been  presented  to 
her  intellectual  consciousness  as  instinct  with  but 
one  vital  element,  —  their  effect  upon  Felicia 
Hamilton's  identity.  She  had  acquired  habits  of 
industry  and  an  eager  mental  activity  which,  so 
far,  had  found  scope  enough  in  the  scheme  of  ac- 
quisition devised  for  her,  and  which,  now  that  the 
limits  of  this  scheme  were  reached,  gave  a  certain 
poignancy  to  this  moment,  while  her  life  stood  ex- 
pectant, and  demanded  of  the  future,  What  next  ? 
There  seemed  a  vagueness  in  all  possible  reply. 
Her  mental  discipline  had  tended  to  no  practical 
end  ;  her  carefully  cultivated  social  qualifications 
had  no  field.  If  so  intense  a  nature  and  so  alert 


36  FELICIA. 

an  intellect  had  been  in  the  passionate  possession 
of  a  definite  ambition ;  if,  on  the  other  hand,  so 
worldly  a  woman  had  commanded  a  full  measure 
of  worldly  interests  and  absorptions,  there  could 
have  ensued  no  sense  of  vacuity.  In  either  case, 
she  would  not  probably  have  given  as  yet  half  a 
dozen  moments  to  the  thought  of  Hugh  Kennett. 
The  episode  of  casually  meeting  him  would  have 
slipped  into  the  past  with  many  slight  episodes. 
But  in  the  simply  ordered  routine  of  her  days 
there  was  little  to  occupy  her  attention ;  she  was 
strangely  lonely,  one  would  say,  seeing  her  sur- 
rounded by  the  family  group.  That  was  the 
trouble.  It  was  eminently  the  domestic  atmos- 
phere she  was  called  upon  to  breathe,  and  her 
lungs  were  not  trained  to  this  air.  She  found  a 
certain  monotony  in  a  life  of  which  the  most  lively 
incidents  were  preserving  fruit  or  putting  away 
blankets  in  camphor  for  the  summer,  especially  as 
her  interest  in  the  matter  was  that  of  the  entirely 
disinterested  spectator.  She  was  fond  of  her  sister- 
in-law  and  the  children ;  their  society,  however, 
did  not  absorb  all  her  faculties.  To  be  sure,  this 
was  very  objectionable.  A  woman  of  fine  mind 
and  feeling  should  be  able  to  discover  resources 
in  simple  pleasures  and  an  uneventful  routine ; 
but  que  voulez-vous  ?  Promise  a  richly  spiced 
diet  of  daily  excitement,  and  does  not  the  nutri- 
tious oatmeal  become  insipid  ? 

John  Hamilton  and  his  wife  were  happily  and 
sturdily  unaware  how  limited  were  their  resources 


FELICIA.  37 

for  entertainment  as  measured  from  their  visitor'." 
standpoint.  They  accorded,  as  they  supposed,  all 
due  consideration  to  the  amusement  of  their  young 
guest.  They  took  her  several  times  to  the  theatre  ; 
they  drove  with  her  through  the  parks ;  they 
showed  her  the  notable  pictures ;  they  gave  her 
an  "  evening."  This  "  evening  "  bored  Felicia  to 
the  verge  of  coma. 

John  Hamilton  would  have  laughed  to  scorn 
the  idea  that  society  could  be  anything  of  a  serious 
affair ;  that  the  best  results  are  attained  by  ex- 
perts who  pursue  it  with  acumen  and  diligence, 
and  with  mental  exercises  that  have  some  analogy 
to  the  careful  vaticinations  of  chances  and  of  ele- 
ments which  a  man  of  business  gives  to  the  stock 
fluctuations  on  'Change.  Social  life  he  regarded 
with  that  peculiar  sort  of  half-amused  nonchalance 
characteristic  of  a  rural  magnate,  who  had  found 
it  an  exceedingly  simple  matter  in  his  village 
home  and  in  the  large  provincial  city  contiguous, 
where  he  and  his  family  were  as  well  known  as 
the  court-house  or  the  university  at  which  he  had 
received  his  collegiate  education.  To  his  mind, 
people  who  were  not  aware  that  this  favored 
region  was  the  most  delightful  on  earth,  its  educa- 
tional facilities  were  the  most  desirable,  and  its 
society  was  the  most  agreeable,  were  people  much 
to  be  pitied.  He  was  a  man  of  inherited  fortune, 
independent  of  his  expectations  from  his  father. 
He  had  of  late  years  greatly  increased  his  busi- 
ness ventures,  and,  having  nerve  and  money  and 


88  FELICIA. 

luck  on  his  side,  he  was  rapidly  making  a  large 
fortune.  In  extending  his  operations,  the  advan- 
tageous field  offered  by  Chilounatti  had  been 
pressed  upon  his  attention,  and  some  six  months 
earlier  he  had  removed  thither ;  taking  with  him 
a  certain  dash  and  an  enterprise  that  instantly 
began  to  make  itself  felt  in  financial  circles,  and 
taking  also  his  imperative  personality,  his  breezy, 
good-humored  manner,  and  his  disregard  of  con- 
ventionality in  its  more  exacting  sense.  It  was 
owing  to  various  cumulative  and  ramifying  effects 
of  some  of  these  circumstances  and  traits  of  char- 
acter that  the  "  evening  "  presented  some  features 
which  might  distinguish  it  from  many  similar  en- 
tertainments. 

A  new-comer  into  any  society,  with  the  definite 
claims  of  money  and  family,  is  apt  to  be  the  re- 
cipient of  its  respectful  attentions,  and  when  Ham- 
ilton desired  to  ask  a  few  people  to  meet  his  sister 
he  was  at  no  loss  for  material.  He  cast  about 
and  invited  somewhat  at  haphazard  among  vari- 
ous families  who  had  been  especially  polite  to  him 
and  his  wife.  It  did  not  occur  to  him,  however, 
that  while  his  guests  were  heavy  weights  financially 
and  socially,  most  of  them  were  equally  ponderous 
mentally,  and  that  he  had  not  secured  a  sufficient 
quantity  of  a  lighter  and  more  vivacious  element 
to  leaven  the  entertainment,  and  render  it  alto- 
gether congenial  to  a  person  of  the  fair  benefi- 
ciary's age  and  temperament.  The  majority  of 
the  company,  substantial  business  potentates,  stol- 


FELICIA.  39 

idly  partook  of  the  conversation  and  the  viands, 
and  lent  as  much  of  animation  to  the  occasion  as 
did  their  wives  or  the  armchairs.  A  few  younger 
people  were  present ;  an  incipient  lawyer,  heavy 
and  monosyllabic,  with  an  unresponsive  and  sus- 
picious eye ;  a  rising  architect,  whose  reputation 
for  talent  he  was  apparently  conscious  needed  con- 
stant vindication ;  he  vindicated  it  by  a  haughty 
inclination  to  silence,  and,  when  he  did  speak,  as 
much  of  covert  sarcasm  as  was  admissible.  There 
were  also  two  young  collegians,  Seniors  in  a  locally 
celebrated  university,  —  one  blonde  and  rather 
shy,  the  other  a  trifle  flippant.  Both  of  these 
seemed  very  distrustful  of  Felicia ;  indeed,  all  the 
unmarried  men  apparently  thought  it  necessary  to 
be  on  their  guard  against  her,  —  perhaps  as 
vaguely  dangerous,  perhaps  lest  a  chance  word  of 
theirs  might  minister,  contrary  to  their  intention, 
to  her  self-approval,  which  they  divined  and  ir- 
rationally resented.  The  married  men  regarded 
her  with  mild  indifference.  The  ladies  appre- 
ciated her  sparkle,  her  grace,  her  poise,  her  gra- 
cious little  coquetry,  which  they  had  the  insight  to 
perceive  she  wore  like  her  flowers,  as  embellish- 
ment to  herself  and  in  compliment  to  the  guests 
and  the  festivity ;  not  by  way  of  tribute  to  her 
interlocutor,  as  the  young  architect,  the  lawyer, 
and  the  collegians  fancied  one  moment,  and  half 
angrily  doubted  the  next.  These  young  men  had 
the  "touchy"  vanity  peculiar  to  immature  years 
and  inexperience,  when,  unfortunately,  it  is  not 


40  FELICIA. 

neutralized  by  geniality  or  frivolity.  They  took 
themselves,  Felicia,  and  the  occasion  with  the  ut- 
most seriousness,  not  to  say  tragically. 

Mrs.  Hamilton's  friends  had  heard  much  of  her 
sister-in-law,  who  was,  in  her  way,  something  of  a 
social  celebrity.  It  was  with  very  genuine  curi- 
osity that  they  looked  at  the  young  lady  dressed 
in  faint  pink,  with  a  wonderful  contrast  of  darkly 
red  roses  on  her  bosom  and  in  her  hand.  She 
held  a  large  pink  fan  with  a  full-blown  rose  and 
bud  painted  with  such  realism  that  she  seemed  to 
have  robbed  her  dress  for  it ;  she  waved  it  slowly 
back  and  forth ;  occasionally  she  opened  and  shut 
it.  She  had  great  ease  of  manner.  However 
many  were  about  her,  she  bestowed  some  words 
on  each,  and  a  gracious  smile  ;  she  listened  with 
an  appearance  of  deep  interest  to  whatever  was 
said,  and  replied  aptly  and  spiritedly.  More  than 
one  of  our  young  gentlemen  esteemed  this  un- 
candid,  —  she  could  n't  be  so  pleased  as  that 
with  bald-headed  old  Harcourt,  you  know,  or 
that  blushing  fool,  young  Orton.  She  looked  at 
them  softly  and  brightly.  The  mature  young 
ladies  thought  she  "  made  eyes  "  at  the  gentlemen  ; 
it  must  be  admitted  she  made  them  very  impar- 
tially. 

The  burden  of  the  entertainment  devolved  upon 
the  guest  of  the  evening,  and  the  manner  in  which 
she  acquitted  herself  of  the  responsibility  extorted 
more  appreciation  than  she  supposed.  She  had 
her  reward,  however,  such  as  it  was,  when  the 


FELICIA.  41 

guests  took  leave,  to  see  that  there  was  a  trifle  of 
animation  and  even  gayety  among  them,  and  in 
the  approval  of  John  Hamilton  and  his  wife. 

"  What  a  brilliant,  brilliant  evening  !  "  cried 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  as  the  door  shut  on  the  last  guest. 
"  Oh,  Felicia,  how  exquisite  you  look,  and  how 
delightfully  you  made  it  go  off !  What  pleasure 
it  is  going  to  give  me  to  entertain  often  in  this 
lovely  way !  " 

Felicia  hardly  knew  whether  to  laugh  or  to  cry. 
After  she  had  shut  herself  into  her  own  room  she 
decided  upon  the  latter  course,  and  shed  a  few 
tears  of  vexation  and  fatigue.  How  was  it,  she 
asked  herself,  that  she  could  not  come  across  any 
agreeable  people  ?  Were  she  and  cousin  Robert 
the  only  conversable  human  beings  in  this  great 
city  ?  Perhaps  it  was  because  she  knew  so  few, 
so  very  few.  Perhaps  —  she  had  not  noticed  be- 
fore —  it  is  necessary  to  meet  two  or  three  hun- 
dred people  in  order  to  winnow  the  mass,  and  ex- 
tract the  infrequent  half  dozen  or  so  pleasant 
friends  who  make  life  endurable.  How  dull  the 
whole  affair  had  been,  this  evening,  and  how  in- 
supportable was  life !  With  her  temperament 
and  at  her  age  one  has  no  future  ;  the  temporary 
disappointment  curtained  her  horizon  with  as  dis- 
tinct a  cloud  as  a  real  sorrow.  What  better  could 
John  have  done  ?  she  said.  He  could  not  help  it 
if  he  knew  nobody  who  was  interesting.  She  be- 
lieved there  was  nobody  who  was  interesting  in 
the  place.  She  could  not  remember  a  face  with  a 


42  FELICIA. 

spark  of  intelligence,  except  that  of  the  silent 
man  she  met  at  cousin  Robert's.  She  supposed 
he  had  some  brains ;  he  looked  as  if  he  had. 
With  his  face  the  last  image  in  her  mind,  she 
fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning  she  again  remembered  Hugh 
Kennett,  and  at  breakfast,  after  a  full  discussion 
of  the  festivity  of  the  previous  evening,  she  asked 
her  brother  if  he  knew  a  cousin  of  cousin  Robert's, 
—  a  man  named  Kennett. 

"  Never  heard  of  him,"  said  John  Hamilton, 
buttering  his  roll  with  quick  strokes.  He  was 
eating  in  a  hurry,  for  breakfast  was  late,  as  is 
meet  after  a  party.  He  was  in  a  good  humor, 
however :  the  "  evening  "  had  gone  off  very  well, 
his  wife  was  pleased,  and  he  supposed  his  sister 
was  delighted. 

"  He  passes  here  every  day,  about  eleven 
o'clock,"  persisted  Felicia.  "  A  tall  man  who 
has  no  mustache  or  beard,  and  usually  wears  a 
sort  of  fawn  -  colored  suit,  —  sometimes  blue, 
sometimes  a  gray  suit." 

"  Don't  recognize  the  description,  —  passes  here 
every  day  at  eleven  o'clock  ?  "  He  brushed  away 
with  his  napkin  the  crumbs  adhering  to  the  long, 
fair  mustache  that  swept  across  his  full,  florid 
cheek,  and  fixed  his  blue  eyes  on  his  sister's  face. 
"  Felicia,"  he  said,  with  mock  gravity,  "  don't 
have  anything  to  say  to  any  fellow  —  even  if  he  is 
Raymond's  cousin  —  who  does  n't  go  down  town 
till  eleven  o'clock.  He  must  be  president  of  a 
bank,  a  faro-bank." 


FELICIA.  48 

He  burst  into  a  loud  laugh  at  his  own  witti- 
cism, and  catching  up  his  hat  put  it  on  his  head, 
where  it  fortunately  concealed  an  expanse  of  pre- 
mature baldness,  and  revealed  only  a  fringe  of 
close-clipped  brown  hair.  He  was  light  on  his 
feet  for  a  heavy  man,  and  in  another  instant  «his 
rapid  step  resounded  down  the  hall ;  the  door 
closed  with  a  bang  ;  he  dashed  into  a  passing  car, 
and  was  instantly  absorbed  in  abstruse  calcula- 
tions concerning  the  possible  corner  in  wheat,  as 
oblivious  to  the  fact  of  a  girl's  vague  and  delicate 
complications  of  feeling  as  though  no  such  subtle 
and  imperative  forces  were  in  existence. 

When  Fred  reminded  his  aunt,  that  afternoon, 
of  her  promise  to  drive  with  him  to  the  Park,  he 
was  disgusted  to  perceive  that  she  seemed  dis- 
posed to  shirk  her  obligation.  She  was  tired,  she 
said  ;  she  felt  languid,  —  perhaps  it  was  a  touch 
of  malaria.  Besides,  did  n't  he  see  what  she  was 
doing  ?  This  was  the  baby's  flannel  petticoat  she 
was  embroidering  as  a  surprise  for  his  mother. 
Wouldn't  he  be  pleased  to  see  his  little  sister 
wear  a  petticoat  with  such  deep  embroidery  ? 
And  what  a  pretty  design !  —  roses  and  lilies,  — 
so  appropriate. 

But  Fred  said  he  would  n't  be  pleased  at  all. 
"  I  ain't  goin'  ter  let  you  off  fur  nothin',  —  just 
trine  ter  cheat  me  out'n  my  trip,  because  you 
know  mamma  won't  lemme  go  by  myself,  when 
there  ain't  one  bit  of  danger,  nohow,"  whined 
Fred. 


44  FELICIA. 

He  raised  his  stormy  freckled  face,  almost  as 
red  with  to-day's  varied  experiences  as  if  it  had 
been  parboiled.  Expostulation,  surly  disfavor,  im- 
pending outbreak,  and  entreaty  were  oddly  blended 
in  his  eloquent  blue  eyes ;  his  hat  was  pushed  far 
ba«k  on  his  disheveled  flaxen  hair,  which  was 
beaded  with  moisture,  and  stood  upright  from  his 
brow  in  damp  wisps.  His  complication  of  ex- 
pressions moved  Felicia ;  she  began  to  fold  her 
work. 

"  An'  I  think  a  smart  girl  like  you,"  continued 
Fred,  with  his  own  inimitable  patronage,  "  might 
find  somethin'  nicer  ter  do  than  workin'  old 
flow'rs  in  an  old  baby's  petticoat,  when  she  don't 
know  a  rose  from  a  tadpole." 

"No  doubt  you  are  right  about  that,"  said 
Felicia,  with  a  laugh. 

She  might  have  had  for  her  drive  more  improv- 
ing and  intellectual  companionship,  but  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  surpass  Fred  on  the  score  of 
animation.  He  chatted  without  cessation,  in  high 
feather;  now  and  again  his  cackling  juvenile  laugh- 
ter split  the  air.  Felicia,  too,  was  well  pleased. 
The  afternoon  was  soft,  yet  fresh ;  the  horse  was 
gentle  but  spirited,  and  very  fast ;  the  roads  were 
excellent ;  from  the  crests  of  the  many  slight  ele- 
vations were  fine  views  of  purple  hills  and  green 
and  yellow  fields  ;  now  and  then  were  visible  the 
silver  curves  of  the  river,  all  softened  by  the  dis- 
tance and  the  transmuting  afternoon  sunshine. 
She  appreciated  intensely  that  quaint  combina- 


FELICIA.  45 

tion  of  ingenuousness,  conceit,  generosity,  and 
selfishness  which  characterizes  callow  male  human 
nature,  and  she  had  not  been  sufficiently  long  an 
intimate  of  Fred's  to  wear  threadbare  the  interest 
she  took  in  his  peculiarities.  It  was  her  habit  to 
conduct  herself  toward  him  with  a  certain  cama- 
raderie, serious  or  mirthful  according  to  circum- 
stances ;  and  he  accepted  her  tone  in  all  good 
faith,  nothing  doubting  that  his  consequence  was 
as  definite  as  her  manner  implied. 

Thus  they  bowled  cheerily  along  the  broad 
thoroughfare,  overtaking  and  passing  many  other 
pleasure-seekers  in  vehicles  and  on  horseback ; 
past  handsome  suburban  residences,  with  lawns 
and  gardens,  growing  gradually  more  extensive  ; 
past  vacant  lots,  with  big  placards  inscribed  "  For 
Sale,"  conspicuously  displayed ;  past  now  and 
then  a  field,  which  was  some  day  to  be  divided 
into  lots  and  also  placarded,  and  perhaps  in  the 
good  time  coming  to  be  built  up,  when  the  "  City 
of  Splendid  Promises  "  should  redeem  some  of  its 
pledges  to  futurity  and  extend  thus  far  ;  past  here 
and  there  sparse  strips  of  woodland.  And  all  at 
once  more  houses,  although  it  seemed  a  moment 
ago  that  the  country  was  almost  reached,  — 
plenty  of  them,  too ;  city  houses,  showy,  expen- 
sive, and  modern.  And  here  was  the  broad  im- 
pressive entrance  to  the  Park,  crowded  with  vehi- 
cles coming  and  going,  presided  over  by  members 
of  the  Park  police,  and  by  a  great  equestrian 
statue,  looking  down  silent  and  inscrutable.  It 


46  FELICIA. 

was  not  disagreeable,  after  a  time,  to  turn  from 
the  wide,  much-frequented  gravel  drives  down  one 
of  the  quiet  woodland  ways.  The  sunshine  and 
shadows  flecked  the  road  before  them  ;  vistas  of 
greenery,  upon  which  were  imposed  the  brown 
boles  of  oak  and  hickory  trees,  stretched  on  each 
side ;  now  and  again  the  ground  fell  away  in  gen- 
tle grassy  slopes ;  here  they  caught  sight  of  a 
great  burst  of  yellow  sunshine  flooding  an  open 
space  in  the  distance,  and  here  were  steep  banks 
and  a  stream  gliding  far  below ;  the  shadows  were 
thick ;  the  vegetation  crowded  close  about  the 
water ;  the  horse's  hoofs  fell  with  a  hollow  sound 
as  they  pulled  him  into  a  walk,  and  they  crossed 
the  bridge  slowly  ;  and  now  on  the  opposite  banks 
and  away,  the  ground  flying  beneath  the  feet  of 
the  good  Kentucky  trotter. 

In  this  portion  of  the  Park  little  in  the  way  of 
landscape  gardening  had  been  done,  the  attrac- 
tions of  the  place  being  judiciously  intrusted  to 
well-tended  smooth  "  dirt  roads,"  and  forest  trees 
growing  as  Nature  chose  along  the  hillsides  and 
about  the  levels.  But  upon  emerging  suddenly 
from  the  shaded  ways  into  the  sunshine,  the  more 
conventional  aspect  of  flower-beds,  fountains,  lake- 
lets, grottoes,  and  fanciful  pagoda-like  structures 
was  presented.  A  stone  basin  by  the  roadside, 
through  which  a  stream  of  water  was  flowing,  all 
at  once  reminded  Fred  that  he  might  introduce 
the  element  of  variety  into  the  expedition. 

"  We  ain't  give  Henry  Clay  one  drop  of  water 


FELICIA.  47 

since  we  started  1  "  lie  exclaimed,  reining  up  sud- 
denly. 

"  He  can't  be  thirsty.  Don't  stop,"  protested 
Felicia. 

If,  however,  one  makes  it  a  habit  to  place  a 
boy  of  eight  on  a  plane  of  consequence  and  dig- 
nity, it  is  not  improbable  that  he  will  indorse  the 
status  in  a  manner  and  to  a  degree  not  always 
convenient.  Fred,  willful  under  all  circumstances, 
was  particularly  resentful  of  authority  where  Feli- 
cia was  concerned.  She  had  herself  to  blame  for 
the  state  of  mind  in  which  he  composedly  de- 
scended, paying  not  the  slightest  attention  to  her 
words,  climbed  upon  a  terrace  close  by,  labo- 
riously unfastened  the  check-rein,  and  led  the 
horse  to  the  trough.  The  animal  was  evidently 
not  thirsty,  but  he  thrust  his  nozzle  into  the  water 
and  went  through  the  motions  of  drinking,  now 
and  then  turning  his  intelligent  eyes  contempla- 
tively on  the  round,  rosy  face  of  the  boy  at  his 
head.  The  sunshine  was  bright  on  his  glossy  bay 
coat  that  shone  like  satin;  the  wind  whispered 
through  the  leaves ;  a  thrush  was  singing  in  the 
clump  of  lilacs  near  by  ;  some  few  belated  blooms 
sent  out  on  the  air  their  delicate  fragrance.  Feli- 
cia sat  in  the  phaeton  waiting,  the  reins  in  her 
hands. 

At  this  moment,  unluckily,  a  boy,  a  year  or 
two  older  than  Fred,  came  cantering  down  the 
road  on  a  black  pony.  He  stopped  upon  seeing 
the  party  at  the  trough,  and  the  two  boys  greeted 


48  FELICIA. 

each  other  as  Damon  and  Pythias  might  have 
done  after  a  separation  of  years,  if  both  were  suf- 
fering from  the  infirmity  of  deafness.  Fred 
left  the  horse's  head,  and  ran  to  the  side  of  the 
pony.  Suddenly,  to  Felicia's  amazement  and  hor- 
ror, she  saw  him,  after  a  short  conference,  —  loud 
enough,  but  unintelligible  to  her,  —  put  his  foot 
into  the  stirrup  and  scramble  up  behind  his  friend. 
In  reply  to  her  eager  remonstrance,  he  turned 
upon  her  an  excited  eye  and  a  grave,  sunburned 
face.  "  You  just  wait  here  for  me,"  he  said,  per- 
emptorily. "  I  've  got  to  go  to  this  boy's  an'  see 
his  new  rabbit-house.  He  lives  just  outside  the 
Pawk.  I '11  be  back  d'rec'ly.  You  just  wait." 

Objection  was  useless.  Felicia  had  merely 
time  to  open  her  lips  for  the  purpose,  when  the 
two  equestrians  were  off  like  the  wind,  clattering 
toward  the  southern  gates,  leaving  the  wrathful 
young  lady  sitting  in  the  phaeton,  and  Henry 
Clay  looking  after  them  in  dignified  surprise, 
until  he  bethought  himself  of  the  trough  and 
occupied  himself  with  pretending  to  drink. 

The  moments  passed  wearily.  Now  and  again, 
Felicia,  hearing  the  sound  of  rapid  hoof-beats, 
would  turn  her  head  expectantly  to  see  only 
strangers  gallop  by.  At  length,  tired  and  rest- 
less, she  descended  from  the  phaeton,  slipped  the 
hitching-rein  through  a  ring  on  a  post  that  stood 
in  convenient  proximity,  and  addressed  herself  to 
systematically  waiting  for  the  truant  rabbit-fan- 
cier. She  strolled  up  and  down  the  walks ;  she 


FELICIA.  49 

gathered  a  few  clover  blooms  and  offered  them 
to  Henry  Clay,  who  accepted  them  languidly, 
looking  at  her  with  a  touch  of  contemptuous  com- 
miseration, she  fancied  ;  she  bethought  herself  of 
a  book  which  had  been  placed  in  the  phaeton, 
in  order  that  she  and  Fred  could  take  it,  on  their 
way  home,  to  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Hamilton's.  She 
returned  to  the  phaeton,  secured  the  volume,  and 
placed  herself  on  one  of  the  benches  that  stood 
on  the  grassy  margin  of  the  lake.  She  did  not 
read,  however ;  the  breeze  fluttered  the  leaves, 
and  brought  to  her  many  perfumes  from  the  fan- 
tastically shaped  beds  of  flowers  near  by ;  the 
expanse  of  water  dimpled  in  the  sunshine  ;  a  boat, 
filled  with  children  and  with  its  pennons  flying, 
was  making  its  way  toward  the  island ;  some 
swans,  slowly  sailing  about,  arched  their  necks, 
and  approached,  and  receded,  until  one,  bolder 
than  the  rest,  waddled  up  the  bank  toward  the 
young  lady,  with  sharp,  unmusical  cries  of  insist- 
ence. It  seemed  all  at  once  to  realize  that  it 
had  mistaken  her  for  some  human  friend  in  the 
habit  of  bringing  a  supply  of  cake  or  cracker ;  it 
paused,  gazed  at  her  intently,  its  head  inquiringly 
on  one  side,  its  long  neck  stretched  laterally  toward 
her ;  it  turned  as  suddenly,  waddled  off,  glided 
into  the  water,  and  gracefully  floated  away. 

Felicia's  smile  was  still  on  her  lips,  when, 
observing  that  a  shadow  had  fallen  across  her 
page,  she  looked  up. 

"That  seemed  a  case  of   mistaken   identity," 


50  FELICIA. 

said  Hugh  Kennett,  referring  to  the  bird's  notice- 
able manoeuvre.  He  was  lifting  his  hat ;  the 
gesture  was  ceremonious,  but  he  was  smiling  as  he 
looked  at  her,  —  smiling  like  an  old  friend. 

"  It  was  disappointed,"  said  Felicia. 

"I  believe  you  drive  out  to  this  park  rather 
frequently  with  your  little  brother." 

"  My  little  nephew,"  corrected  Felicia.  "  Yes, 
every  Saturday.  He  does  n't  deserve  to  come 
again.  I  can  appreciate  Ariadne's  despair.  He 
left  me  here,  while  he  has  gone  to  look  at  another 
boy's  rabbit-house." 

She  was  in  the  habit  of  being  much  attended, 
and  she  deprecated  that  she  should  be  sitting  here 
alone,  seeming,  she  fancied,  rather  forlorn,  but 
she  attempted  to  carry  off  the  matter  as  jauntily 
as  possible.  "  I  am  very  angry  with  him,  but  I 
suppose  I  shall  forgive  him  before  his  next  holi- 
day. He  considers  me  pledged  for  Saturdays." 

"  They  have  music  here  on  some  of  the  other 
afternoons." 

"But  there  is  such  a  crowd." 

"  You  dislike  a  crowd  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  an  interesting  sort  of  crowd,"  said 
Miss  Hamilton,  exactingly ;  "  it  is  a  rabble,  with 
a  few  nice  people  sprinkled  in." 

"After  all,  human  nature  is  human  nature," 
said  Hugh  Kennett. 

So  far  he  had  been  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  wide  walk.  He  had  replaced  his  straw  hat ; 
he  held  a  little  cane  motionless  with  both  hands 


FELICIA.  51 

behind  him.  The  attitude  showed  his  sinewy  and 
admirably  proportioned  figure  to  much  advantage. 
The  fawn-colored  suit  he  wore  fitted  well,  and  its 
soft  tone  accorded  with  his  peculiar  coloring. 
His  complexion,  neither  noticeably  fair  nor  dark, 
had  a  certain  warmth,  and  its  delicacy  of  texture 
suggested  an  indoor  pursuit.  He  had  the  look 
of  a  man  who  conserves  an  enviable  physical 
trim.  Well  in  health,  well  fed,  well  dressed, 
with  nerves,  mind,  and  heart  under  full  control, 
—  this  was  the  impression  given  by  his  personal 
appearance.  His  eye,  now  that  she  saw  it  close 
and  in  a  bright  light,  was  full  and  clear;  there 
were  composure  and  strength  in  its  expression. 

Before  Felicia  replied  she  hesitated  a  moment. 
That  moment  meant  a  great  deal  to  her.  She 
was  about  many  things  somewhat  exacting.  Mat- 
ters of  social  usage  and  form  were  important  in 
her  eyes ;  perhaps  she  even  exaggerated  the  im- 
portance of  her  own  dignity.  She  knew  that  he 
desired  her  to  ask  him  to  take  the  vacant  place 
beside  her,  —  it  was  what  he  was  waiting  for. 
She  knew  that  to  do  so  would  confer  upon  him 
the  favor  of  her  acquaintance.  She  would  not 
confer  it  merely  because  he  desired  it.  She  de- 
liberately weighed,  in  that  short  pause,  the  rea- 
sons for  and  against  this  course.  That  he  was 
Robert's  cousin,  and  that  she  had  met  him,  a 
guest,  at  the  Rectory,  on  friendly  terms  with  the 
clergyman  and  his  wife,  —  to  say  nothing  of  Mrs. 
Emily  Stanley-Brant,  —  went  a  good  way,  to  be 


52  FELICIA. 

sure.  But  the  meeting  was  accidental,  and  not 
necessarily  an  official  indorsement,  so  to  speak. 
Mr.  Raymond  had  not  introduced  him  to  her 
brother  or  his  wife,  and  had  not  brought  him  to 
call.  On  the  other,  hand,  the  Raymonds  were 
not  very  ceremonious  about  such  matters,  and 
this  omission  might  have  been  merely  negligence, 
not  intention.  Perhaps  he  was  himself  a  stranger 
in  Chilounatti ;  and  again  she  was  reminded  how 
very  little  she  knew  of  him  personally.  Although 
by  no  means  so  thoroughly  versed  in  the  ways  of 
the  world  as  she  deemed  herself,  she  had  experi- 
ence enough  to  understand  the  difficulty  in  grace- 
fully getting  rid  of  superfluous  acquaintances. 
But  was  she  justified,  she  argued,  in  relegating 
to  this  circle  of  the  excluded  a  man  whom  the 
most  punctilious  of  men  received  on  intimate 
terms  into  his  own  family,  and  whose  manners 
and  appearance  were  evidently  those  of  a  gentle- 
man ?  She  said  to  herself  that  she  was  as  com- 
petent to  judge  a  gentleman  as  her  brother,  who 
was  dense  in  some  respects,  or  cousin  Robert, 
who  was  flighty.  This  reflection  turned  the  scale. 
She  raised  her  eyes  to  his. 

"  Will  you  sit  down  ?  "  she  said,  gravely. 

"Thank  you,"  he  returned,  as  gravely,  and 
placed  himself  beside  her  on  the  painted  bench. 

It  had  been  a  momentous  pause  ;  each  realized 
it,  and  each  knew  that  the  other  realized  it. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment;  then  she 
replied  to  what  he  had  said. 


FELICIA.  53 

"  Human  nature  may  be  human  nature,"  she 
admitted,  "  but  all  people  are  not  human.  I 
know  a  terrier  who  has  a  tailor,  —  an  excellent 
one,  —  and  eye-glasses,  and  a  mustache.  Did 
you  never  see  a  woman  like  a  bird,  hopping  and 
perching  about,  and  surprising  you  every  time 
she  handles  a  fan  or  a  parasol  because  her  fingers 
are  not  claws?  Why,  a  moment  ago  a  man 
passed  here  whose  fat  little  eyes  were  exactly  like 
a  pig's.  Oh,  no,  some  human  beings  are  not 
exactly  human,  —  I  'm  sure  of  that." 

"I  had  no  idea  you  were  such  a  cynic,"  he 
said,  looking  at  her  with  a  half  laugh.  It  was 
the  glance  and  laugh  of  an  old  friend. 

She  was  disposed  for  a  moment  to  resent  this, 
to  consider  it  a  liberty  that  there  should  be  so 
distinct  an  undercurrent  of  sympathy,  already 
glimpsed,  or  rather  felt,  through  the  crust  of  for- 
mality which  characterized  their  short  acquaint- 
ance. She  arrogated  to  herself  the  privilege  of 
any  lapse  from  convention.  As  she  glanced  at 
him  in  uncertainty,  she  met  his  fine,  calm  eye  ; 
it  had  so  evident  a  reliance  on  a  reciprocity  of 
feelings,  whatever  they  might  be,  so  simple  and 
candid  an  enjoyment  of  the  moment,  that  she 
was  disarmed. 

"  A  little  cynicism  is  not  a  bad  thing,"  he  sug- 
gested ;  "  it  prevents  one  from  wearing  one's 
heart  on  one's  sleeve." 

"•  If  one  has  a  heart,"  she  returned,  with  a  little 
laugh. 


54  FE-LICIA. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  are  all  provided  with  that  dis- 
comfort. Even  the  rabble,  who  have  such  bad 
manners." 

"  Bad  manners  are  wicked,"  said  Felicia,  with 
that  willful  air  which  cousin  Robert  could  never 
resist,  and  which  Hugh  Kennett  also  seemed  to 
approve. 

"  In  these  cities  that  have  such  a  rapid  growth, 
other  matters  take  precedence,"  he  remarked. 
"  Many  people  make  money  too  fast  here  to  care 
much  about  manners." 

"  Manners  are  more  important  than  money," 
quoth  the  pupil  of  Madame  Sevier. 

He  laughed  at  this. 

"  Just  as  the  people  about  us  are  more  impor- 
tant than  the  things  about  us,"  she  persisted. 

"  I  should  never  have  thought  you  would  feel 
that,"  he  said,  suddenly  serious.  "  I  supposed 
environment  meant  a  great  deal  to  you." 

He  spoke  with  evident  interest ;  he  looked  at 
her  expectantly  as  to  what  she  might  reply.  He 
seemed  determined  to  make  the  conversation  very 
personal.  This  time  she  did  not  relent. 

"I  was  speaking  merely  abstractly,"  she  de- 
clared, indifferently,  turning  her  eyes  with  a 
casual  glance  upon  the  scintillating  surface  of  the 
lake,  already  enriched  with  gleams  of  gold  and 
lines  of  crimson  beneath  the  red  and  gilded  bril- 
liance deepening  athwart  the  soft  azure  sky. 

He  was  slightly  taken  aback  for  a  moment. 
"Ah,  well,"  he  said,  "an  abstract  truth  merges 


FELICIA.  55 

itself  sooner  or  later  into  a  personal  application. 
In  my  case,  I  admit  environment  means  very  little. 
A  few  close  friends,  an  object  in  life,  good  health, 
and  a  quiet  conscience,  —  that  is  a  world  a  man 
can  carry  about  with  him  as  a  snail  carries  its 
world." 

"  A  man  can  do  that,"  said  Felicia. 

"  And  a  woman  cannot  ?     Why  not  ?  " 

"  For  several  reasons.  We  have  no  close 
friends  ;  we  can't  go  into  the  world  and  select 
those  that  suit  us.  And  we  have  no  object  in 
life,  —  no  definite  object,  I  mean.  And  health, 
—  you  mentioned  health,  did  n't  you  ?  —  if  we 
have  health  our  occupation  is  gone ;  we  can't  cod- 
dle ourselves.  As  to  conscience,"  —  she  laughed 
gleefully,  —  "we  have  n't  that,  either!  " 

Kennett  laughed,  too.  "  I  am  well  aware  of 
that  fact,"  he  replied ;  "  I  discovered  long  ago 
that  you  have  no  consciences." 

She  looked  very  arch  and  pretty  at  this  mo- 
ment :  her  eyes  were  bright ;  her  parted  scarlet 
lips  showed  her  milk-white  teeth  ;  she  had  flushed 
a  little.  Her  toilette,  always  so  felicitously  de- 
vised as  to  convey  the  impression  that  it  was  the 
most  becoming  she  had  yet  worn,  was  noticeably 
simple  ;  to-day  she  seemed  to  owe  nothing  to  the 
embellishments  of  art.  Her  white  dress  was  very 
fine  in  texture  and  very  plainly  fashioned  ;  long 
black  kid  gloves,  that  fitted  conscientiously,  so  to 
speak,  gave  her  little  hands  additional  daintiness ; 
a  straw  hat  demurely  shaded  her  delicately  tinted, 


56  FELICIA. 

brilliant  face :  she  might  have  stepped  from  the 
frame  of  some  old  picture,  but  for  the  anachro- 
nism of  a  very  modern  lace-covered  parasol  with  a 
long  amber  handle,  which  she  revolved  upon  her 
shoulder  as  she  talked.  He  was  a  man  whom  no 
detail  escaped.  He  noticed,  when  she  raised  her 
eyes,  that  the  iris  was  a  veritable  purple  ;  that 
the  whites  were  clear  and  tinged  with  blue  ;  that 
the  gold-tipped  brown  lashes  were  long  and  curled 
upward. 

The  wind  stirred  the  leaves ;  the  water  of  the 
fountain,  falling,  falling,  in  the  midst  of  the 
rippling  lake,  was  monotonously  agreeable.  The 
closely  clipped  turf  was  vividly  green  with  the 
welcome  brilliance  of  the  season  :  striking  athwart 
the  emerald  expanse  was  a  wide  bar  of  yellow 
sunshine,  and  as  a  trio  of  young  girls  in  light 
dresses  passed  through  the  gilded  radiance,  the 
red  feather  which  one  of  them  wore  in  her  hat 
had  a  suddenly  splendid  effect,  —  it  was  a  mo- 
ment for  enchantments.  The  trill  of  a  lettuce 
bird  vibrated  on  the  air  ;  the  swans  floated,  and 
paused,  and  floated  again,  their  snowy  plumage 
gleaming  in  the  sun. 

"  Do  you  read  a  great  deal  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ken- 
nett,  glancing  at  the  volume  open  on  her  knee. 

"  Very  little." 

"You  don't  care  for  reading?"  he  pursued, 
with  the  accent  of  surprise. 

"  Very  much.  And  that  is  why  I  rarely  in- 
dulge myself." 


FELICIA.  57 

Again  he  looked  at  her,  with  that  smile  which, 
beneath  its  geniality,  was  charged  with  a  more 
definite  sympathetic  quality. 

"  What  unexpected  material  for  martyrdom  !  " 
he  exclaimed. 

"  I  am  not  so  heroic,"  she  returned,  with  a 
laugh.  "  It  seems  to  me  I  have  no  time  to 
read." 

"  I  had  an  idea  —  to  be  sure,  I  may  be  mistaken 
—  but  I  had  an  idea  that  people  like  you  have 
all  the  time." 

She  explained.  "  Once  I  read  a  great  deal,  — 
long  ago,  when  I  was  young ;  and  it  became  im- 
pressed upon  me  that  I  had  no  time  to  spend 
upon  any  books  but  text-books.  One  who  intends 
to  live  has  no  time  to  read." 

He  gave  this  a  moment  of  cogitation.  "  I  can- 
not say  I  am  quite  ready  to  accept  that  doctrine," 
he  declared. 

"  If  you  read,  you  take  the  views  of  the  writers ; 
you  think  their  thoughts ;  you  live  a  life  made 
up  of  their  theories  mixed  with  your  own  circum- 
stances'. It  is  all  incoherent." 

"  You  want  to  conserve  originality,  I  see,"  he 
remarked. 

"  Cousin  Robert  says  Amy  and  I  never  look  at 
a  newspaper  because  we  are  afraid  of  learning 
something  about  politics,"  she  said,  with  her  sud- 
den laughter.  "  And  he  is  right,  —  we  detest 
politics." 

"Robert  does  not  show  his  usual  acumen  in 


58  FELICIA. 

attributing  the  same  views  to  you  and  his  wife. 
You  are  not  at  all  like  your  cousin." 

"  I  don't  know  that  you  are  at  all  like  your 
cousin,"  remai-ked  Felicia. 

"  We  used  to  be  considered  alike,"  he  re- 
turned, —  "  not  so  much  in  appearance,  perhaps, 
as  in  temperament  and  character.  The  influences 
have  been  so  different  of  late  years  that  we  may 
have  drifted  apart." 

Certainly  the  talk  had  become  very  personal, 
but  she  said  to  herself  that,  under  the  circum- 
stances, it  was  hardly  matter  for  surprise. 

"  You  have  known  him  always,  then  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Always.  In  fact,  he  was  from  his  early  child- 
hood a  member  of  my  father's  family,  until  he 
took  that  —  well,  excuse  me  —  that  freak  to  make 
a  clergyman  of  himself.  I  must  say  I  regret  his 
choosing  the  ministry.  You  see,  I  am  not  much 
of  a  churchman,"  he  added,  deprecatingly,  as  her 
face  grew  grave. 

Among  the  privileges  she  arrogated  to  herself 
was  that  of  any  depreciation  of  religious  matters, 
and  she  was  severe  in  condemnation  of  similar 
dereliction  in  others.  He  saw  that  he  was  in 
deep  water,  but  was  not  sufficiently  adroit  to 
know  exactly  how  to  emerge. 

"  I  think  it  does  not  altogether  suit  Robert  to 
be  a  clergyman,"  he  went  on,  uncertainly. 

"  He  is  a  very  valuable  and  useful  one,"  she 
said,  stiffly. 


FELICIA.  69 

"  Oh,  no  doubt,"  he  rejoined,  humbly. 

"And  very  eloquent,"  continued  Felicia. 

"  He  has  a  great  advantage  in  his  voice  and 
his  fine  elocution.  He  owes  much  of  that  to  my 
father." 

She  was  interested,  remembering  what  Mrs. 
Stanley  -  Brant  had  said  about  Mr.  Kennett's 
father.  Was  he  too  a  clergyman  ?  she  wondered. 

"  My  father  was  very  fond  of  Robert,"  contin- 
ued Kennett,  "  and  looked  after  his  education 
with  great  attention ;  but  he  did  that  for  all  of  us, 
—  my  sisters  and  I  received  our  most  valuable 
training  from  him.  He  had  untiring  patience 
and  gentleness,  and  the  most  complete  sympathy. 
Only  those  who  knew  him  well  could  realize  how 
fully  he  could  enter  into  the  ineffectual  little 
efforts  of  others." 

He  spoke  very  simply  and  naturally,  always 
with  that  candid  confidence  in  her  sympathy,  as 
if  to  an  old  friend.  His  quiet  gray  eyes  were 
fixed  absently  on  the  party-colored  flower-beds 
that  in  the  distance  suggested  huge  bouquets ;  his 
face  held  an  expression  not  so  much  of  grief  as  of 
remembrance  from  which  the  bitterness  of  sorrow 
has  been  refined  away,  —  a  sort  of  calm  and  ten- 
der reflectiveness.  Felicia  divined  that  in  the 
years  that  had  passed  the  dead  had  come  at  last 
to  seem  only  gone  from  sight  and  hearing,  and 
not  cruelly  and  incomprehensibly  swept  out  of  ex- 
istence. She  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  say ; 
it  was  strange  to  be  thus  taken  into  the  confidence 


60  FELICIA. 

of  a  man  who  was  three  hours  ago  so  far  removed 
from  her  by  all  those  strong  conventions  which 
she  felt  were  so  important ;  yet  his  evident  uncon- 
sciousness of  anything  unusual  in  his  words  made 
them  seem  more  a  matter  of  course. 

"  He  thinks  cousin  Robert  has  talked  of  him 
and  of  his  father  also,"  was  her  conclusion.  - 

The  Western  sky  was  crimson  now  ;  the  surface 
of  the  lake  was  richly  aglow.  The  red  gold  of 
the  sunset  was  sifting  through  the  air.  The  shad- 
ows were  growing  long.  The  breeze  freshened. 
Suddenly  the  distant  peal  of  the  Angelus  —  that 
apotheosis  of  eventide  effects  —  rang  out,  caught 
and  tossed  from  side  to  side,  as  many  a  church 
and  chapel  repeated  the  mellow  clang. 

Adown  the  leafy  vista  of  the  road  Fred  and 
several  of  his  friends  might  be  seen  advancing 
on  foot,  apparently  engaged  in  some  commercial 
transaction.  One  of  them  was  holding  out  tempt- 
ingly a  big  pocket-knife,  which  Fred  evidently 
declined  to  receive ;  he  had  two  strips  of  leather 
in  his  hand  ;  their  voices  were  loud  in  argument. 

Felicia  rose,  and  joined  her  nephew.  Kennett 
assisted  her  into  the  phaeton.  As  Fred  drove  off, 
she  bowed  in  adieu  to  her  new  acquaintance,  and 
she  was  again  impressed  by  the  formality,  even 
the  ceremoniousness,  of  his  salutation,  and  its 
singular  contrast  with  his  extreme  frankness. 


IV. 

IN  her  leisure  moments,  of  which  she  enjoyed 
some  superfluity,  Felicia  meditated  much  on  the 
unexpected  interview  in  the  Park,  and  in  the 
course  of  the  next  week  she  evolved  the  idea  that 
it  would  be  desirable  to  draw  out  cousin  Robert 
on  the  subject  of  the  Kennetts,  father  and  son. 
This  astute  design  was  frustrated.  Hearing  no- 
thing from  him  or  his  wife,  she  undertook  a  pil- 
grimage to  the  Rectory.  The  fat  old  dog  on  the 
veranda  gave  a  gentle  wheeze  of  recognition  and 
a  tap  or  two  with  his  tail.  As  the  bell  clamored 
through  the  house,  it  had  an  indefinably  hollow 
sound,  and  the  maid  appeared  promptly  at  the 
door. 

"  I  'm  thankful  to  see  you,  Miss  Felicia  !  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  I  'm  too  lunsome  to  live,  with  no- 
body to  speak  to  but  the  old  dog.  You  did  n't 
know  Mrs.  Raymond  was  gone,  yet  alreatty  ? 
Oh,  yes  'in,  since  Chewsday.  She  'd  a  telegram 
that  her  uncle  Lucian  is  sick  up  in  the  country  at 
his  house,  where  her  maw  is  visitin'  him.  An' 
her  maw  is  worn  out  nursin'  him.  So  Mrs.  Ray- 
mond left  right  away  alreatty.  An'  yesterday, 
Mr.  Raymond  got  another  gentleman  to  take  the 
church  next  Sunday,  an'  went  himselluf.  They 


62  FELICIA. 

never  wrote  to  you,  ain't  it  ?  Mebbe  they  forgot 
it ;  they  was  so  confused  in  their  minds." 

She  looked  at  Felicia  benignly  from  beneath 
her  fluffy  flaxen  bangs,  that  innocently  exagger- 
ated the  fashion,  and  almost  obscured  her  blue 
eyes. 

"  Ach  —  how  be-eu-ti-ful  yez  are  the  day  !  "  she 
cried,  rapturously.  From  the  Irish  cook  at  her 
last  place  she  had  secured  certain  choice  idioms, 
which  she  had  engrafted  upon  her  German  dialect 
with  a  unique  effect  that  appealed  delightfully  to 
Felicia's  sense  of  humor. 

Our  young  lady  returned  home  in  puzzled  cogi- 
tation. She  realized  that  it  was  possible  for 
Hugh  Kennett  to  make  rapid  strides  in  forming 
acquaintance  ;  in  a  few  more  such  interviews  as 
their  last  meeting,  similar  progress  would  place 
him  on  a  footing  of  close  friendship.  She  desired 
much  to  know  who  he  was,  what  was  his  place  in 
life,  what  were  his  surroundings,  his  associations, 
—  not  so  much  because  of  any  distinct  interest  in 
him  as  from  the  wish  to  relinquish  no  element  of 
entertainment,  and  yet  to  conform  to  that  Mede 
and  Persian  law  which  she  had  prescribed  for  her 
own  guidance  in  such  matters. 

Shortly  after  this  episode,  the  young  architect, 
who  had  been  a  conspicuous  guest  on  the  occasion 
of  the  "  evening,"  called  at  her  brother's  house. 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  actuated  by  the  unwritten  but 
stringent  law  which,  in  her  own  girlhood  days,  in 
Jier  village  home,  conceded  the  unmarried  guest 


FELICIA.  63 

to  the  entertainment  of  the  young  lady  of  the 
family,  conscientiously  conjured  up  a  headache, 
and  Felicia  received  the  visitor  alone.  There  was 
nothing  particularly  upacceptable  in  this  young 
man,  whose  name  was  Grafton.  He  was  a  little 
didactic,  and  not  a  little  conceited  ;  but  he  was  a 
gentleman  ;  he  had  fair  abilities,  and  had  enjoyed 
good  opportunities  of  cultivating  them.  His  mis- 
take was  the  not  unusual  mistake  of  intolerance. 
His  misfortune  was  that  he  did  not  possess  what 
might  be  called  a  sense  of  divination.  He  could 
not  vicariously  experience  emotions,  apprehend  a 
train  of  unexpressed  thought,  or  intuitively  attri- 
bute the  correct  intention  to  a  phraseology  capa- 
ble of  more  than  one  interpretation.  Felicia  also 
was  intolerant ;  and,  although  she  had  plenty  of 
imagination,  her  stock  of  patience  was  scanty. 
She  thought  it  possible  that  she  could  construe 
Mr.  Grafton's  deeper  nature  if  she  should  give 
herself  to  the  effort,  but  she  did  not  deem  it  worth 
the  trouble  ;  she  preferred  to  translate  him  through 
the  surface  medium  of  manner  and  the  casual  chat 
of  the  evening.  He  seemed  to  her  very  unrespon- 
sive, self-absorbed,  prone  to  misunderstandings, 
and  almost  morbidly  appreciative  of  platitudes. 
An  older  woman,  of  equal  mental  qualities,  or  a 
coquette,  might  have  found  entertainment  in 
drawing  him  out  as  an  exponent  of  his  class,  or  as 
a  possible  victim.  Felicia  had  little  interest  in 
types  of  this  sort,  and  was  too  proud  —  or,  it  may 
be,  too  vain  —  to  be  definitely  and  of  set  purpose 


64  FELICIA. 

a  coquette.  It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that, 
although  she  would  not  attempt  Alfred  Grafton's 
scalp  to  wear  as  a  trophy,  she  did  not  fail  to 
sharpen  the  knife,  —  in  other  words,  she  deemed 
it  incumbent  upon  her  to  make  his  call  agreeable  ; 
this  obligation,  according  to  her  code,  she  owed  to 
herself.  He  could  not,  in  reason,  find  fault  with 
her  graceful  cordiality.  At  first,  he  was  inclined 
unreasonably  to  object  to  it  as  insincere.  Later, 
his  self-love  came  to  the  rescue,  and  he  wondered 
if  this  suavity  might  not  be  susceptible  of  a  dif- 
ferent explanation.  Many  a  man  of  twenty-four 
would  have  thawed  under  the  geniality  of  this 
suspicion  ;  but  Grafton's  nature  was  one  of  those 
which,  accepting  the  most  flattering  concessions  as 
tribute,  do  this  with  a  certain  grudging,  a  certain 
objection,  as  if  on  guard  against  being  surprised 
into  benignity,  cajoled,  got  the  better  of,  in  some 
inscrutable  way.  It  is  impossible  to  say  what  Fe- 
licia would  have  thought,  could  she  have  divined 
how  egregiously  he  mistook  her  smile  over  her 
big,  pretty,  gently  swaying  fan,  her  gracious  eyes, 
her  vivacity,  her  affability,  —  that  he  fancied  she 
was  trying  to  fascinate  him.  What  she  did  think 
was  something  like  this  :  "  It  is  a  pity  he  is  such 
a  stick.  He  is  rather  good-looking  :  his  eyes  are 
set  too  far  back,  but  they  are  hazel  and  well  cut ; 
his  face  is  somewhat  narrow.  Still,  he  looks  re- 
fined and  intelligent,  and  as  if  he  ought  not  to  be 
so  terrifically  tiresome." 

They  talked  a  little  of  the  weather,  and  Felicia 
inveighed  against  the  dust. 


FELICIA.  65 

"  It  gives  one  a  taste  of  martyrdom,"  she  de- 
clared. "  St.  Simeon  Sisanites  of  Syria  need  n't 
have  gone  on  the  top  of  a  column  in  order  to  be 
wretched  enough  to  found  a  sect  of  Stylites,  if 
he  had  lived  here.  And  those  watering-carts  are 
only  an  aggravation.  One  expects  so  much  of 
them  and  gets  so  little." 

"  I  think  the  street-watering  system  is  perhaps 
as  good  here  as  elsewhere,"  he  replied,  looking 
at  her  with  that  expression  by  which  a  capable 
adept  can  thoroughly  chill  a  conversation  without 
being  tangibly  rude. 

She  wondered  if  she  had  said  anything  particu- 
larly objectionable ;  if  he  had  any  interest  in  the 
matter,  —  a  contract,  for  instance,  to  supply  the 
lumbering  carts  to  the  city,  or  the  horses.  She 
remembered  that  he  was  an  architect ;  for  all  she 
knew,  the  city  gave  such  contracts  to  architects. 
Cousin  Robert  might  have  mentioned  other  things 
she  was  afraid  of  learning,  besides  politics. 

It  was  with  a  distinct  intention  of  recompensing 
a  possible  slight  that  she  smiled  upon  him  now ; 
under,  these  circumstances  her  smile  was  very 
sweet. 

"  At  any  rate,  this  place  has  many  attractions," 
she  said,  "  notwithstanding  the  dust.  The  parks 
are  lovely,  and  the  public  bxiildings  are  so  inter- 
esting. I  suppose  the  architecture  is  very  fine," 
she  added,  vaguely. 

"  The  architecture  is  very  bad,"  he  declared, 
unexpectedly,  —  "  atrociously  bad." 


66  FELICIA. 

She  raised  her  eyebrows.  "  Indeed  ?  I  had 
fancied  the  reverse  the  case.  But  I  confess  I 
know  nothing  about  architecture.  A  young  lady 
is  lucky  in  not  being  expected  to  take,  as  Lord 
Bacon  did,  all  knowledge  for  her  province." 

"  Is  not  her  education  expected  to  teach  her 
something  about  everything?"  he  asked;  and  with 
him  a  question  could  be  as  didactic  as  an  axiom. 

"  Oh-h-h  —  but  if  it  does  that,  she  will  be  a 
bas  bleu  !  "  Felicia  cried,  making  her  eyes  large, 
and  intimating  that  this  was  a  dreadful  thing. 

"  I  feel  assured,"  he  persisted,  seriously,  "  that 
it  is  a  woman's  duty  and  privilege  to  be  thor- 
oughly well  informed." 

Her  eyes  resumed  their  normal  dimensions, 
and  into  them  came  a  slight  expression  of  weari- 
ness. It  seemed  to  her  that  it  would  be  difficult 
to  conjure  what  she  called  esprit  into  this  conver- 
sation. 

"  I  am  one  of  those  who  hold  that  sex  should 
be  no  disqualification  in  education,"  he  continued. 
"  I  maintain  that  women  should  share  higher 
education  equally  with  men." 

"  I  should  think  women  would  find  it  rather 
ennuyant"  said  Felicia,  with  a  smile. 

"  Why  do  you  use  foreign  words  ?  "  he  asked. 
He  seemed  sensible  that  she  might  object  to  this, 
for  he  went  on,  with  some  suggestion  of  the  man- 
ner of  conciliation,  "  I  think  we  have  English 
words  that  express  that  idea." 

"  Oh,  I  will  talk  English,  if  you  prefer,  —  or 


FELICIA.  67 

American,  even ! "  exclaimed  Felicia,  with  her 
light  laughter,  which  was  now  a  trifle  forced. 

The  next  hour  was,  perhaps,  the  most  laborious 
she  had  ever  known ;  it  was  not  only  the  fact  of 
uncongeniality,  —  it  was  the  necessity  to  grace- 
fully concede.  She  found  it  desirable  to  main- 
tain a  proposition  to  a  certain  point,  and  then  re- 
linquish it  scientifically,  —  not  too  suddenly,  — 
with  the  judicious  amount  of  argument  necessary 
to  keep  up  the  similitude  of  interest.  This  is  ex- 
hausting intellectual  exercise,  and  also  a  trial  to 
the  temper.  She  wondered  why  he  did  not  go. 
The  truth  was,  the  reason  their  talk  tired  her  was 
the  reason  it  interested  him  ;  then,  that  flattering 
suspicion  afforded  a  certain  agreeable  titillation, 
notwithstanding  his  stern  determination  not  to  be 
subtly  overreached.  He  did  not  grow  genial,  but 
he  was  satisfied.  He  was  having  what  she  would 
have  called  a  good  time. 

It  was  abruptly  terminated.  There  came  by 
degrees  the  roll  of  rapidly  advancing  wheels.  All 
at  once  they  stopped  in  front  of  the  house.  There 
was  a  sound  of  quick,  light  steps,  the  bell  was 
rung,  and,  when  the  front  door  was  opened,  a 
voice,  asking  for  Miss  Hamilton,  invaded  the  si- 
lence of  the  hall. 

Grafton  noticed  that,  at  the  first  tone  of  the 
voice,  Felicia  turned  her  head ;  her  color  deep- 
ened ;  her  expression  was  expectant.  In  another 
moment  a  gentleman  appeared  on  the  threshold. 
For  a  second  he  stood  motionless,  as  he  glanced 


68  FELICIA. 

about  him  ;  then  his  eye  fell  on  the  young  lady, 
who  had  risen,  smiling.  He  darted  toward  her, 
tucking,  with  incredible  deftness  and  quickness, 
his  crush  hat  under  his  arm,  and  holding  out  both 
hands. 

"  My  dear  f-r-r-iend,"  he  cried,  joyously,  "  how 
enchanted  I  am  to  see  you  !  " 

He  was  so  swift,  so  vivacious,  so  unexpected,  so 
foreign,  that  his  entrance  was  as  incongruous  as 
if  he  were  a  flash  of  lightning ;  and  a  veritable 
flash  of  lightning  could  hardly  have  demolished 
more  abruptly  Mr.  Grafton's  measured  enjoyment 
of  the  evening  and  his  flattering  little  theory  of 
the  young  lady's  favor.  Was  it  like  this,  he  won- 
dered, that  she  looked  at  the  man  she  loved  ? 
Her  eyes,  — how  lucent  they  were,  how  dark  with 
feeling ;  how  smilingly  her  beautiful  lips  had 
curved ;  what  welcome  her  face  expressed  !  He 
looked  —  and  his  neutral  glance  had  at  length 
become  tinged  with  a  distinct  sentiment  —  at  the 
visitor.  He  saw  a  man  of  thirty-six  or  seven  ; 
rather  under  medium  height,  in  full  dress,  with 
auburn  hair  and  mustache,  fair  complexion,  deli- 
cately cut  features,  brilliant  blue  eyes,  a  vivacious 
expression,  and  an  alert  and  graceful  figure.  He 
acknowledged  the  introduction  to  Mr.  Graf  ton 
with  a  suavity  which  was  at  once  curiously  em- 
presse  and  perfunctory ;  then  he  dropped  on  a 
sofa  beside  Felicia. 

"  And  how  did  I  discover  you  were  here,  eh  ? 
The  merest  accident,  ten  minutes  since,  or  I  should 


FELICIA.  6P 

not  have  dared  to  call  at  this  unconscionable  hour, 
Met  your  brother  at  the  opera —  went  out  after 
the  second  act  to  take  a  —  a  —  smoke  —  saw  Mr. 
Hamilton  in  the  crowd  —  caught  him  —  asked 
news  of  you  —  '  My  dear  fellow,  don't  you  know 
she  is  at  my  house  ?  '  He  vivaciously  mimicked 
John  Hamilton's  voice  and  manner,  and  Felicia 
burst  into  a  peal  of  silvery  laughter.  "  So  I 
asked  the  number  of  his  house  —  called  a  car- 
riage —  '  Drive  as  if  the  furies  were  after  you  ! ' 
—  and  me  void,  eh  ?  " 

He  gave  a  great  wave  of  his  hand  to  intimate 
the  rapidity  of  the  transition.  He  used  many 
gestures.  He  was  hardly  still  a  moment ;  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders ;  he  threw  up  his  eye- 
brows ;  a  turn  of  his  flexible  wrist  would  fill  out 
a  sentence ;  he  glanced  swiftly  about  the  room, 
apparently  taking  in  everything  instantaneously, 
but  casually.  The  expression  of  his  eyes,  coming 
back  to  the  young  lady's  face,  and  that  recurrent 
"  eh  ?  "  intimated  a  friendship  that  made  the  im- 
passive Mr.  Grafton,  looking  coldly  on  from  his 
armchair,  set  his  teeth  together  with  an  unwonted 
intensity  of  emotion. 

He  gathered  that  the  stranger  was  a  brother  of 
a  school  friend  of  Miss  Hamilton's,  on  a  flying 
business  trip  through  the  West.  "  And  a  most 
annoying,  disagreeable  journey  I  have  had,  but 
for  the  lucky  accident  of  meeting  you.  I  assure 
you  I  am  fully  recompensed  now.  And  there  's 
no  chance  of  your  going  back  to  Madame  Sevier, 


70  FELICIA. 

eh  ?  Ah-h-h,  she  is  afflicted  to  give  you  up !  '  Lu- 
cille,' she  said  to  my  sister,  the  day  before  I  left, 
'  the  place  can  never  be  the  same  without  my 
dear  FeliciteV  Ah-h,  with  tears !  I  assure  you 
she  wept.  And  you  like  the  West,  eh  ?  I  thought 
not,"  triumphantly.  Then  he  turned  to  make  an 
amende  to  the  Westerner,  who,  stiffly  erect,  sat 
regarding  him  as  if  he  were  an  escaped  wild  beast, 
—  not  dangerous,  but  very  objectionable.  "  You 
have  a  wonderful  country,  Mr.  —  er  —  Grafton. 
Progress,  enterprise,  all  that,  —  the  future  of  the 
nation,  all  that.  But  we  don't  want  to  relinquish 
everything  to  you ;  we  must  keep  the  approval  of 
our  own  young  ladies  ;  we  must  n't  be  too  gener- 
ous. And  when,"  he  continued,  again  addressing 
Felicia  with  his  sudden  swiftness,  "  are  you  com- 
ing to  see  Lucille  ?  A  visit,  a  little  visit,  eh,  — 
you  won't  deny  us  that?  She  will  be  enchanted 
that  I  met  you." 

Grafton  thought  Mr.  Adolphe  Devaux  the  most 
odious,  insufferable,  vain,  shallow  popinjay  he 
had  ever  beheld.  Mr.  Devaux  commiserated 
Felicia's  hard  fate  that  she  was  compelled  to  play 
the  agreeable  to  a  conceited  prig  like  that.  Each 
attempted  to  outstay  the  other,  and  Grafton  suc- 
ceeded, for  train-time  is  inexorable.  The  French- 
man, suddenly  bethinking  himself  of  the  hour, 
vehemently  apologized  for  looking  at  his  watch ; 
despairingly  tossed  up  his  eyebrows  and  his 
shoulders  at  the  result ;  explained  comprehen- 
sively that  he  must  get  back  to  the  hotel,  change 


FELICIA.  71 

his  dress,  pack  his  traps,  swallow  some  supper, 
and  reach  the  train  in  half  an  hour  from  this 
present  speaking ;  and  tore  himself  away,  after 
adieux  which,  although  rapid,  somehow  expressed 
and  embodied  a  vast  deal  of  the  genius  of  leave- 
taking.  There  were  many  messages  given  him  to 
Lucille ;  and  when  Miss  Hamilton  reached  Ma- 
dame Sevier's  turn,  her  voice  suddenly  faltered, 
the  color  flared  up  in  her  cheeks,  her  violet  eyes 
grew  dewy,  the  hand  she  had  given  him  trembled 
in  his  clasp. 

"  Ah-h  !  "  he  cried,  "  how  glad  Madame  Sevier 
will  be  that  you  remember  her  so  kindly  !  She 
was  afraid  you  would  forget  her.  No  fear  of 
that,  eh?  Adieu,  adieu.  Good-evening,  Mr. 
Grafton.  So  happy  to  have  met  you." 

When  Felicia's  remaining  caller  had  also  taken 
leave,  she  repaired  to  her  own  room,  where  she 
found  her  sister-in-law,  her  round,  rosy  face 
beaming  with  pleasure,  awaiting  her.  This  lady, 
shortly  after  her  graduation  from  the  Young 
Ladies'  Select  Institute  of  her  native  village,  had 
married  John  Hamilton,  in  the  chrysalis  stage  of 
his  career.  His  semi-rural  home,  his  respectably 
large  provincial  business,  his  juvenile  family,  and 
her  share  in  all  these  phases  of  life  seemed  to  her 
to  afford  full  measure  of  interest,  until  the  wider 
pageant  of  cosmopolitan  possibilities  was  pre- 
sented by  their  removal  to  Chilounatti.  Now  her 
ideas  were  rapidly  expanding.  Her  imagination 
had  compassed  ambitions,  pleasures,  pursuits,  half 


72  FELICIA. 

realized  heretofore.  She  developed  an  interest  in 
the  matter  of  entertainments  ;  she  carefully  read 
the  fashion  articles  in  the  papers  and  the  society 
columns  ;  she  collated  scraps  of  information  as  to 
the  appropriate  menus  for  ladies'  luncheons  and 
afternoon  teas,  for  dinners  and  evening  parties. 
On  these  subjects  she  obtruded  none  of  her  newly 
acquired  wisdom,  but  listened  and  observed  with 
great  intentness,  and  held  herself  always  in  read- 
iness to  amend  her  code.  She  was  becoming  fa- 
miliar with  minutia}  of  household  management 
under  altered  conditions,  and  had  bloomed  into  a 
modest  splendor  of  dress  on  great  occasions. 
Among  other  phases  of  this  new  life  upon  which 
she  was  entering  with  such  zest,  Felicia's  enjoy- 
ments and  prospects  offered  a  suggestive  theme 
for  congratulatory  contemplation.  How  gay  and 
eventful  existence  must  be  to  her!  She  was 
never  a  whole  day  without  some  agreeable  epi- 
sode, although  the  "  season  "  was  virtually  over. 
Last  week,  the  theatre  twice,  and  the  Melville 
reception  ;  and  last  Friday  the  "  evening ;  "  and 
several  trips  down-town  this  week;  and  to-night 
two  delightful  callers  ;  and  —  "  Oh,  Felicia,"  she 
cried,  as  the  girl  entered  the  room,  "  who  was  he  ? 
—  the  last  one,  I  mean.  I  know  Alfred  Grafton 
came  first.  Oh,  how  delighted  he  seemed  to  see 
you  !  Is  he  nice  ?  Is  he  handsome  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  a  dear  little  man,"  replied  Feli- 
cia, as  she  removed  her  earrings  and  carefully 
bestowed  her  big  fan  in  its  box,  —  "a  dear,  dear 
little  man." 


FELICIA.  73 

Mrs.  Hamilton's  face  fell.  This  did  not  seem 
exactly  on  the  plane  of  the  status  she  had  con- 
jured up. 

"  And  is  he  very  devoted  ?  Is  he  in  love  with 
you,  too  ?  "  she  asked. 

Felicia  stared  at  her.  "  Adolphe  Devaux !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  Why,  he  's  been  married  ten 
years,  at  least." 

"  Oh-h-h  !  "  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  disappointed. 

And  here  was  John  Hamilton,  pretty  tired,  a 
little  out  of  humor,  and,  as  he  expressed  it,  fran- 
tic to  go  to  sleep. 

"  I  suppose,  Felicia,  you  saw  that  howling  swell 
Devaux  ?  Kushed  at  me  as  if  he  were  crazy.  It 
takes  a  foreigner  to  make  a  fool  of  himself. 
Everybody  looked  at  me.  I  felt  like  braining 
him.  The  opera?  Was  it  good?  /don't  know. 
Everybody  said  so.  I  did  n't  pay  much  attention. 
Gale  asked  me  to  meet  some  fellows  —  friends  of 
his  from  Minnesota  —  at  dinner  at  the  club,  and 
nothing  would  satisfy  him  but  the  opera  after- 
ward." 

As  he  tramped  out  of  the  room,  his  step  sounded 
as  if  he  were  indeed  very  sleepy. 

To-night  Felicia  took  stock,  in  a  manner.  So 
much  time,  —  such  elements  for  filling  it.  She 
said  to  herself  that  she  was,  perhaps,  abnormally 
dependent  on  the  personality  of  those  about  her : 
their  natures  were  her  bane  or  her  blessing ;  their 
manners  could  afflict  or  delight  her.  The  expres- 
sion of  kindly  feeling  or  the  divination  of  ap- 


74  FELICIA. 

proval  was  like  the  breath  of  her  life,  —  was  like 
the  sunshine  to  a  plant.  She  said  she  had  no 
idea  how  much  she  valued  cordiality  until  Adolphe 
Devaux,  whom  she  had  esteemed  slightly  enough 
heretofore,  was  contrasted  with  Mr.  Graf  ton. 
And,  as  she  considered  these  matters,  she  said  to 
herself,  with  a  certain  satisfaction,  that  she  had 
shown  good  judgment  in  not  rejecting  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Hugh  Kennett,  who  had  manifested 
some  capacity  to  understand  her ;  whose  ideas 
were  congenial  with  hers  ;  who  had  intellectual 
qualities  she  could  respect,  and  manners  she  could 
approve.  She  admitted  to  herself  that  she  was 
pleased  that  she  had  met  him,  and  would  be 
pleased  to  meet  him  again.  Thus  Alfred  Graf- 
ton's  call  had  the  perfectly  illogical  result  of 
strengthening  Hugh  Kennett's  claim  upon  Miss 
Hamilton's  acquaintance. 

However  the  routine  of  the  Hamilton  house- 
hold might  be  interrupted,  there  was  one  weekly 
festival  that  came  with  unimpaired  regularity,  — 
Fred's  holiday  on  Saturdays ;  and  he  was  very 
rigorous  in  exacting  all  the  rights  and  privileges 
which  he  deemed  appropriate  to  the  recurrent 
occasion.  Since  Felicia,  in  an  unguarded  moment, 
had  promised  to  drive  with  him  on  those  after- 
noons, he  had  held  her  to  the  compact  with  ex- 
treme pertinacity,  and  apparently  took  as  much 
pride  in  the  fact  of  the  regularity  of  these  drives 
as  if  he  withstood  some  strong  temptation  to 
forego  them.  The  slight  cloud  which  had  ob- 


FELICIA.  75 

scured  the  geniality  of  the  last  excursion  cleared 
away  during  the  week,  and  on  the  following  Sat- 
urday they  rolled  off  in  high  spirits  and  complete 
amity. 

They  found  this  drive  the  most  agreeable  they 
had  yet  had.  Fred  detailed  many  of  his  plans, 
and  described  his  friends  and  his  enemies  — 
incoherently.  Felicia  told  him,  with  point  and 
vivacity,  several  stories,  in  which  he  came  out, 
unexpectedly,  the  hero  of  escapades  which  had 
considerately  slipped  from  his  memory.  She  mim- 
icked him  in  the  dismay  or  agitation  of  these  de- 
nouements with  such  genial  humor  that  he  laughed 
uproariously  at  the  figure  lie  presented  to  his  own 
imagination.  Her  eyes  sparkled  ;  the  dimples  did 
not  leave  her  cheeks. 

"  You  're  a  bully  girl !  "  declared  Fred,  in  high 
good  humor.  "  You  're  always  jolly." 

The  consciousness  of  her  various  mental  ex- 
ercitations  regarding  Mr.  Kennett  had  a  certain 
disagreeable  effect  on  which  she  had  not  counted. 
As  she  saw  him  advancing  along  one  of  the  pic- 
turesque footpaths  of  the  Park  which  intersected 
the  principal  drives,  she  became  aware  that  she 
was  coloring  violently.  This  startled  and  dis- 
concerted her,  and  she  did  not  realize  that  a  crisis 
of  another  sort  impended  until  it  was  imminent. 

It  chanced  that  Fred,  who  insisted  on  driving, 
to  her  exclusion,  also  recognized  Kennett.  He 
had  not  shown  any  especial  enthusiasm  in  claim- 
ing the  acquaintance  on,  the  previous  Saturday, 


76  FELICIA. 

but  now,  with  the  inconsequence  of  the  small  boy, 
he  saluted  the  pedestrian  with  a  loud,  eager  ac- 
claim, signaled  him  to  stop,  pulled  the  horse 
sharply  across  the  road,  and  drew  up  at  its 
margin.  This  manoeuvre  was  so  sudden  that  the 
driver  of  a  great  watering-cart,  which  was  just 
behind  the  phaeton,  taken  entirely  by  surprise, 
went  through  a  wild  contortion  in  his  effort  to 
keep  his  team  from  running  down  the  slight 
vehicle.  His  struggles  seemed  for  a  moment 
about  to  be  crowned  with  success,  as  he,  too, 
turned  his  horses  into  the  middle  of  the  road ; 
but  his  utmost  skill  did  not  avail  to  prevent  the 
wheels  of  the  big,  burly  cart  from  sharply  collid- 
ing with  the  wheels  of  the  phaeton.  There  was  a 
sudden  crash,  a  grinding,  splintering  sound,  and 
an  abrupt  shock.  Henry  Clay,  disapproving  of 
the  noise  and  the  jai',  plunged  violently,  and 
would  have  bolted  but  for  the  restraining  hand 
of  a  gardener  who  was  fortunately  passing,  with 
his  barrow  and  tools,  at  the  moment.  Keunett 
hastened  his  steps  into  a  run,  and  helped  Felicia 
from  the  phaeton ;  and  she  stood  looking  rue- 
fully at  the  broken  wheel,  as  Fred  and  the  driver 
of  the  watering-cart  also  descended  from  their  re- 
spective perches  and  surveyed  the  damage.  Each 
of  the  Jehus  indulged  in  wild  criminations,  which, 
after  a  time,  evolved  themselves  into  a  participa- 
tion in  the  pending  discussion  as  to  what  was  to 
be  done  for  the  broken  vehicle,  in  this  emer- 
gency. 


FELICIA.  77 

"  I  '11  tell  ye  what  it  is,  miss,"  said  the  gardener 
in  an  evil  moment.  "  There  's  a  blacksmith  shop 
about  two  blocks  from  the  north  entrance.  Why 
can't  the  little  bye  jist  get  on  the  horse,  an'  ride 
over  there  an'  tell  'in  to  send  here  for  the  phaeton 
ter  mend  it  ?  I  can't  leave  here,  or  I  'd  go  me- 
self ! " 

Fred  accepted  this  suggestion  with  enthusiasm. 
Felicia  remonstrated  on  the  score  of  safety. 

"  Can't  ride  Henry  Clay !  "  sneered  Fred,  in- 
dignantly, as  he  hurriedly  unhitched  the  traces. 
"  Why  can't  I,  I  'd  like  ter  know  ?  Harness ! 
what 's  harness  got  ter  do  with  it  ?  I  '11  show 
you  I  can  ride  him,  if  he  has  got  his  harness  on 
him  !  "  He  led  the  horse  out  of  the  shafts. 

Kennett,  too,  remonstrated,  infusing  as  much 
authority  as  he  might  into  his  manner.  Fred 
looked  at  him  in  surly  surprise,  and  for  reply 
scrambled  upon  the  horse's  back  with  great  ex- 
pedition and  agility.  The  gardener,  realizing  his 
mistake,  glanced,  crestfallen,  from  one  to  the 
other.  Felicia  fired  her  last  shot  with  all  the  skill 
die  possessed. 

"  Oh,  Fred,  do  you  think  it  is  right,"  she  cried, 
"  to  leave  me  to  go  home  without  you  ?  I  shall 
have  to  walk  to  the  street  -  cars  alone,  —  three 
miles,  at  least." 

Fred  hesitated.  His  sense  of  his  own  importance 
was  very  great,  especially  his  idea  of  his  impor- 
tance to  Felicia.  This  appeal  for  herself  touched 
him  on  his  strong  suit.  But  the  counter  temptation 


78  FELICIA. 

was  also  strong.  He  thought  that  it  was  some- 
thing of  a  feat  for  him  to  ride  Henry  Clay,  and 
he  knew  it  would  not  be  permitted  by  his  parents 
unless  his  father  were  one  of  the  party.  Then 
he  prefigured  the  scene  of  interest  and  excitement 
that  would  ensue  at  the  shop  when  he  should 
gallop  up  on  the  harnessed  horse,  with  the  news 
of  the  damaged  vehicle.  It  is  to  be  feared  that 
it  was  his  unexpressed  intention  to  figure  as  the 
hero  of  a  sensational  story.  Under  the  stress  of 
opposing  influences,  Fred  attempted,  as  wiser 
people  do  in  emergencies,  to  evolve  a  compromise. 
He  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  her  with  serious 
eyes.  "You  jus'  walk  ter  where  the  street -cars 
start  from,"  he  said,  imperatively.  "  There  's 
plank  sidewalks  part  of  the  way.  You  get  in  the 
car  an'  wait,  an'  I  '11  be  along  jus'  as  soon  as  I 
tell  them  men  ter  come  after  this  phaeton." 

As  if  afraid  of  more  remonstrances,  he  "  gave 
his  noble  steed  the  rein,"  and  went  off  at  a  gallop 
and  with  a  wild  halloo. 

Nothing  short  of  an  earthquake  could  have 
more  thoroughly  disconcerted  Felicia.  The  an- 
noyance of  being  stranded  here  in  the  Park  was 
greatly  aggravated  by  the  prospect  of  a  walk  of 
three  miles,  at  least,  through  a  region  unfamiliar 
to  her.  Her  swift  speculation  as  to  the  impro- 
bability of  procuring  a  carriage  in  any  reasonable 
time  was  interrupted  by  Kennett's  voice.  He  ap- 
parently shared  none  of  her  anxiety.  He  turned 
to  her  with  a  smile.  For  a  moment  she  almost 


FELICIA.  79 

resented  his  expression  ;  it  held  a  sort  of  friendly 
reliance,  seeming  to  say  in  effect,  "  I  am  very  glad 
to  arrange  this  for  you,  and  I  have  no  doubt  you 
will  be  glad  to  let  me  arrange  it." 

"  It  is  fortunate  that  I  came  down  from  town 
on  the  river,"  he  declared.  "I  can  save  you  a 
dusty  walk.  The  boat-house  is  just  outside  the 
gate,  and  if  you  have  quite  recovered  from  the 
shock  we  will  go  over  and  get  the  boat.  I  can 
row  you  up  to  the  street-car  terminus  by  the  time 
Fred  reaches  there." 

She  hesitated.  She  had  found  it  necessary  to 
amend  her  theories  as  to  les  convenances  very 
radically,  in  view  of  the  difference  between  Ma- 
dame Sevier's  rule  and  the  more  lenient  systems 
prevalent  outside  those  scholastic  walls.  She  had 
been  greatly  surprised  and  a  trifle  doubtful  that 
people  —  we  are  aware  that  she  did  not  consider 
all  the  human  race  "  people  "  -  should  permit 
their  young  ladies  to  ride  and  walk  alone  with 
gentlemen,  but  had  realized  that  the  custom  of 
the  region  makes  the  law  in  matters  of  etiquette. 
This  case,  however,  held  certain  other  elements 
of  difficulty.  She  had  a  reluctance  to  be  placed 
under  a  distinct  obligation,  and  an  obligation  to  a 
stranger.  But  was  he  a  stranger  ?  —  Kobert's  cou- 
sin, closely  connected  by  marriage  with  her  cousin 
Amy  and  with  Mrs.  Emily  Stanley-Brant.  And 
what  else  could  she  do  ?  He  glanced  at  her  ex- 
pectantly, with,  she  fancied,  a  trifle  of  surprise. 
She  had  but  a  moment  for  cogitation.  She  rap- 


80  FELICIA. 

idly  decided  that  in  a  matter  of  the  sort  ultra- 
fastidiousness  is  absurd  ;  that  to  refuse  to  row 
with  him,  and  then  to  plod  with  him  three  miles 
on  a  dusty  turnpike  road,  —  for  he  would  insist 
on  seeing  her  safely  to  the  cars,  at  least,  —  would 
make  her  ridiculous,  and  would  be  quite  as  un- 
suitable as  rowing  on  the  river,  if  either  were  not 
convendble,  according  to  the  Chilounatti  code. 
She  conceded  the  point  gracefully,  putting  up  her 
parasol,  giving  one  last  glance  at  the  disabled 
phaeton,  and  turning  with  Kennett  toward  the 
south  entrance. 

As  they  walked  on  in  the  soft  sunshine  and  the 
alternating  spaces  of  cool  shadow,  Felicia  was 
subacutely  surprised  that  her  annoyance  should 
diminish  so  swiftly.  There  was  something  singu- 
larly restful  about  him :  in  the  expression  of  his 
contemplative  eyes,  now  turning  upon  her  as  their 
desultory  talk  progressed,  now  dwelling  on  the 
green  slopes  or  the  fanciful  flower-beds  by  the 
roadside ;  in  the  tones  of  his  even  voice  ;  in  the 
steadiness  of  his  movements  ;  in  his  candid  and 
natural  manner.  His  manner  had,  too,  a  cer- 
tainty, a  definite  quality,  which  had  the  effect  of 
placing  a  sort  of  appropriateness  on  what  he  pro- 
posed or  did.  It  began  to  seem  a  simple  and 
suitable  thing  thus  to  stroll  with  him  along  these 
verdure-bordered  ways,  through  the  golden  after- 
noon sunshine,  toward  the  Park  gates  ;  already  in 
sight  they  were,  as  well  as  the  broad,  low  boat- 
house  beyond. 


FELICIA.  81 

They  mentioned  the  weather,  the  beauty  of  the 
Park,  Fred's  singular  idea  of  the  duty  of  an  es- 
cort. 

"  Fred  thinks  I  am  a  useless  annoyance  in 
every  expedition,  like  the  sermon  in  a  church 
which. has  a  show  choir,"  declared  Felicia. 

"  By  the  way,  you  know  that  Robert  and  his 
wife  have  left  town  ?  " 

"  I  discovered  that  fact  only  yesterday.  "Will 
they  be  long  absent  ?  " 

"  Some  weeks.  He  will  take  his  vacation  now, 
while  the  church  is  under  repair.  I  believe  I 
have  his  note  with  me." 

He  extracted  several  missives  from  his  breast 
pocket,  selected  one  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"  Your  cousin  is  more  considerate  than  mine," 
remarked  Felicia,  feeling  aggrieved.  "  Amy  has 
not  vouchsafed  me  a  scrape  of  a  pen." 

The  note  was  very  short,  very  familiar,  very 
careless,  very  fraternal.  The  Reverend  Robert 
stated  that  he  was  just  about  to  start  for  the 
train.  Amy  left  some  days  since.  Mr.  Lucian 
Stanley  quite  ill.  Could  n't  say  when  they  would 
return,  —  the  repairs  in  the  church  were  more  ex- 
tensive than  had  been  anticipated  ;  not  for  some 
weeks,  probably.  Sorry  not  to  see  you  again. 
Good-by,  and  God  bless  you. 

As  she  replaced  the  note  in  its  envelope,  Felicia 
noticed  that  it  was  directed  to  one  of  the  hotels. 

"I  had  an  idea  you  lived  up -town,"  she  re- 
marked. Surely  some  slight  personality  might 


82  FELICIA. 

be  considered  in  order,  since  he  was  not  only 
cousin  Robert's  relative,  but  apparently  his  Da- 
mon as  well. 

"  No  doubt  you  had  that  impression  because  I 
pass  the  house  so  frequently.  I  am  the  most 
methodical  of  men.  I  walk  the  same  distance  at 
the  same  time  every  day.  I  have  discovered  that 
serenity  is  necessary,  if  a  man  wishes  to  put  in 
his  best  licks,  —  if  you  will  excuse  the  expression, 
—  to  accomplish  his  highest  possibilities.  And 
serenity  is  facilitated  by  long  contemplative  walks. 
It  is  a  good  habit ;  one  has  time  to  think.  Living 
in  the  midst  of  such  a  rush  as  I  necessarily  do,  it 
is  well  for  a  man  to  take  a  little  time  to  think." 

They  had  reached  the  confines  of  the  Park,  had 
crossed  the  road,  and  were  soon  standing  upon 
the  river-bank.  Belts  of  blue,  of  orange,  of  pur- 
ple, of  a  dazzling  white,  alternated  upon  the  sur- 
face of  the  water.  It  was  ruffled  into  waves  by 
the  breeze,  bearing  woodland  odors  from  the 
Park,  and  sparkled  with  myriads  of  prismatic 
scintillations,  as  the  sun,  slowly  tending  westward, 
shot  athwart  the  stream.  The  boat,  which  had 
been  fastened  to  the  pier,  was  rocking  gently  to 
and  fro.  Kennett  assisted  Felicia  to  a  seat,  and 
took  the  oars.  With  one  long,  smooth  stroke  the 
little  craft  shot  out  far  into  mid-stream. 

"  How  strong  you  are !  "  cried  Felicia.  "  I 
should  never  have  thought  it !  " 

The  ease,  the  dexterity,  the  grace,  delighted 
her.  She  looked  at  Hugh  Kennett  with  shining 
eyes. 


FELICIA.  83 

It  may  be  suggested  that  no  man,  however  well 
balanced,  who  is  capable  of  athletic  achievement, 
is  ever  insensible  to  such  a  tribute.  This  man 
had  his  foibles  and  pet  vanities  well  in  hand,  but 
he  certainly  felt  a  momentary  thrill,  a  glow  of 
ingenuous  pleasure,  a  strong,  subtle,  delicately  in- 
toxicating elation.  He  flushed  a  little. 

"  I  find  it  to  my  advantage  to  keep  in  training, 
to  a  degree.  It  is  a  good  point  for  me.  Besides, 
I  am  fond  of  all  athletic  pursuits." 

"  There  is  a  class  for  ladies  at  the  gymnasium," 
remarked  Felicia. 

"  I  hardly  think  ladies  need  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  /don't  need  it.  I  am  very  strong,"  declared 
Felicia.  "  I  have  no  doubt  I  could  surprise  you, 
if  I  should  condescend  to  row,  as  much  as  you 
surprised  me." 

But  when  he  rose  and  offered  her  the  oars  with 
a  great  show  of  insistence,  she  laughed  and  crim- 
soned, and  leaned  back  in  her  place,  eagerly  de- 
clining. 

"  It  is  not  because  I  can't,"  she  maintained,  as 
he  resumed  his  seat.  "  I  don't  want  to  make  you 
uncomfortable  by  excelling  you." 

"Now,  that  is  too  kind,"  he  retorted. 

She  had  ceased  to  wonder  that  they  knew  each 
other  so  well ;  it  had  begun  to  seem  that  they  had 
been  good  friends  always.  Apparently  he  had 
felt  this  from  the  first.  She  had  no  care  what 
she  should  say  to  him  ;  she  knew  he  would  be  sat- 
isfied with  whatever  she  might  say ;  he  would 


84  FELICIA. 

share  her  mood,  he  would  understand  it.  She 
did  not  feel  it  necessary  to  agree  with  him ;  she 
felt  at  liberty  to  argue,  even  to  contradict,  if  oc- 
casion should  offer.  Occasion  did  not  offer,  how- 
ever. The  two  natures  were  vibrant,  and  when 
a  chord  was  struck  the  response  was  instantaneous 
and  in  tune.  As  the  boat  glided  over  the  water, 
sometimes,  after  a  silence  which  was  curiously 
unconstrained,  both  would  speak  at  once,  and 
would  laugh  to  discover  that  they  had  shared  the 
thought  which  was  uttered. 

"  The  sky  is  like  an  Italian  sky,"  she  observed, 
looking  up  at  the  delicately  yet  intensely  blue 
vault. 

"  I  was  just  about  to  say  that,"  he  declared. 
"  All  day  the  air  has  been  so  soft  that  I  have 
been  reminded  of  days  in  Italy." 

"  I  was  abroad  a  very  short  time,"  remarked 
Felicia.  "  I  should  like  to  go  again."" 

"  You  will,  some  day,"  he  returned. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  she  demanded,  with 
a  sort  of  pleased  credulity. 

"You  are  one  of  those  lucky  people  who  get 
what  they  desire.  Life  is  going  to  be  very  good 
to  you." 

"  It  is  delightful  to  think  that,"  she  said.  Her 
face,  above  the  smoke-colored  dress  she  wore,  and 
shaded  by  the  long  gray  plumes  of  her  hat,  was 
so  radiant  that  he  was  again  reminded  of  a  star 
in  the  rift  of  a  summer  cloud. 

"  It  is  your  birthright,"  he  added.  "  There  is 
eren  a  prophecy  in  your  name." 


FELICIA.  85 

"  I  hope  it  is  a  prophecy,"  she  said,  more 
gravely.  "  I  am  afraid  of  unhappiness.  But  it 
was  my  mother's  name.  She  was  very  happy, 
but  she  died  young." 

"  You  are  the  youngest  child  ?  "  he  asked.  He 
was  rowing  slowly,  his  steady  gray  eyes  fixed  on 
hers.  The  exercise  had  brought  a  glow  to  his 
face  ;  his  lips  were  slightly  parted  over  the  white 
line  of  his  teeth ;  his  attitude  revealed  the  depth 
of  his  chest ;  through  his  light  cloth  coat  the  play 
of  his  muscles  was  suggested ;  the  ease  of  his 
movements  gave  token  of  covert  strength. 

"I  was  her  only  child.  My  brother  John  is 
my  half-brother." 

"  Oh,"  he  said.  Then  after  a  pause,  "  I  ima- 
gined —  I  don't  know  why  —  that  in  your  own 
home  you  had  a  mother  who  was  very  fond  of 
you,  who  read  all  your  letters  many  times,  and 
sent  you  pretty  things  to  wear."  He  glanced  at 
her  soft  gray  dress,  accented  here  and  there  with 
an  indistinct  shadowy  pattern,  which  added  to  its 
cloudy  effect. 

"  You  fancied  that  because  you  think  I  am 
spoiled.  Every  one  thinks  I  am  spoiled."  She 
would  not  listen  to  his  protest.  "  Oh,  you  can't 
excuse  yourself.  You  almost  said  it ;  you  implied 
it.  I  never  forget  and  I  never  forgive.  I  am 
very  vindictive.  Beware ;  Nemesis  is  on  your 
path  !  "  She  broke  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 

It  was  pleasant  to  hear ;  she  was  pleasant  to 
see,  —  so  young,  so  happy,  so  genuine,  so  freshly 


86  FELICIA. 

and  piquantly  beautiful.  Nature  and  art  had 
combined  their  forces  very  judiciously,  he  thought. 
It  was  charming  that  she  should  be  spontaneous, 
even  childish,  ingenuous,  and  natural ;  it  was  de- 
lightfully incongruous  that  she  should  have  that 
finish  of  manner  which  comes  only  of  elaborate 
training. 

When  their  mood  was  graver,  they  talked  dis- 
cursively of  life,  of  character,  of  aims.  Felicia 
admitted  that  once  she  had  been  ambitious.  That 
was  long  ago,  when  she  was  very  young. 

"  I  pined  to  do  something  grand  with  my  life. 
I  did  not  know  exactly  what  I  wanted  ;  to  write 
great  books,  or  to  paint  great  pictures,  or  even  to 
delve  into  science,  like  Mrs.  Somerville  or  Caro- 
line Herschel.  I  wanted  to  accomplish  something 
important.  I  knew  it  would  require  hard  work, 
but  I  believed  I  was  capable  of  hard  work." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Hugh  Kennett,  expectantly, 
looking  at  her  with  a  smile. 

"  Well,  papa  thought  that  was  all  nonsense. 
He  said  that  if  a  woman  has  capacities  she  can 
find  ample  scope  for  them  in  making  herself  gen- 
erally cultivated,  and  that  to  be  a  charming  wo- 
man is  as  much  a  career  as  any  other." 

"  I  think  he  is  right,"  said  Kennett,  heartily. 

"  Sometimes  I  doubt  it,"  returned  Felicia,  pen- 
sively. "  How  would  you  like  it  if  there  seemed 
to  be  no  real  use  for  those  things  which  you  had 
spent  your  life  in  acquiring  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  very  much.     However,  there  is  this 


FELICIA.  87 

difference :  a  woman  may  be  learned  or  not,  as 
she  pleases,  if  only  she  is  charming ;  but  a  man 
must  be  one  thing,  or  he  is  nothing." 

"  And  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  a  success." 

"  Ah,  you  have  had  ambitions,  —  that  is  evi- 
dent," said  Felicia. 

He  laughed  as  his  eyes  rested  on  the  emerald 
banks.  "  When  I  was  young,  —  a  long  time 
ago,"  he  said,  repeating  her  phrase.  "  My  ambi- 
tions have  been  like  the  bag  of  gold  said  to  be 
buried  at  the  foot  of  the  rainbow,  —  when  I  reach 
the  spot,  it  is  just  a  little  further  on." 

"  That  is  because  you  have  high  ideals,"  said 
Felicia,  maturely.  She  sometimes  spoke  with 
weight,  as  of  years  and  experience,  and  he  did  not 
resent  her  pretty  patronage.  "  That  is  different 
from  not  attaining,  from  failing.  It  would  break 
my  heart  to  fail ;  but  pride  is  my  besetting  sin." 

He  would  not  admit  that  pride  is  a  sin  ;  he 
evolved  a  theory  on  the  spot. 

"  Pride  has  the  same  relation,"  he  submitted, 
"  to  the  moral  nature  that  imagination  has  to  the 
intellectual ;  they  are  the  only  qualities  that  soar." 

As  the  boat  glided  over  the  glassy  surface  she 
more  than  once  pointed  out  some  fleeting  effect  of 
the  scene  that  escaped  him  :  the  flare  of  a  clump 
of  trumpet  flowers  growing  about  the  bole  of  a 
dead  tree  ;  the  fantastic  similitude  of  a  whirlpool 
on  the  shining  water  ;  the  metallic  gleam  that 
edged  a  spray  of  leaves,  definite  against  the  rough 


88  FELICIA. 

gray  rocks  on  the  bank,  —  it  might  be  cast  in 
bronze,  she  remarked. 

"  How  quick  your  perceptions  are,  —  how  sen- 
sitive you  must  be  !  "  he  said. 

"  It  is  not  fortunate  to  be  sensitive,"  she  de- 
clared. 

"  That  depends.  Some  emotions  one  need  not 
fear,  and  others  are  like  vitriol ;  they  spoil  every- 
thing they  touch.  Did  you  ever  notice  carefully 
any  large  collection  of  people  ?  I  have  often  ob- 
served that  almost  every  face  —  I  could  point 
them  out,  one  by  one  —  is  burnt  by  envy,  or  ha- 
tred, or  ill  temper,  or  anxiety ;  most,  no  doubt, 
by  unnecessary  cares,  easier,  and  pleasanter,  and 
more  natural  to  throw  aside  than  to  cherish." 

"  That  is  rank  pessimism,"  said  Felicia.  "  Peo- 
ple don't  spoil  themselves  for  pleasure." 

"  They  don't  realize  it." 

"  You  talk  like  a  very  happy  man,"  said  Feli- 
cia, with  her  former  sedateness.  "How  would 
you  endure  some  blow,  some  bitter  disappoint- 
ment or  grief?  Don't  you  suppose  the  vitriol 
would  burn  you,  too  ?  " 

"  You  call  sorrow  vitriol  ?  That  does  not  burn. 
Sorrow  is  the  pen  of  the  prophet :  it  writes  on 
the  human  palimpsest  first  a  mandate,  then  a  his- 
tory ;  but  it  does  not  necessarily  destroy  the  page. 
I  don't  hope  to  escape  sorrow." 

He  rowed  for  a  time  in  silence.  The  clouds 
were  tinged  with  rose  ;  the  waves  scintillated  with 
gleams  of  green  and  yellow  ;  the  willows  on  shore 
rustled,  as  the  breeze  swept  through. 


FELICIA.  89 

"  When  a  man  does  see  a  woman's  face,"  said 
Hugh  Kennett,  with  a  long  sigh,  "  on  which  no 
unworthy  feeling  has  left  a  belittling  touch,  which 
is  bright  with  hope  like  the  morning,  and  strong 
with  intellect,  and  gentle,  and  soft,  and  all  wo- 
manly, he  should  thank  God  for  the  favor  vouch- 
safed ;  for  he  has  beheld  the  face  of  Eve  in  Para- 
dise." 

The  shadows  of  the  trees,  ever  lengthening,  had 
fallen  over  the  water.  And  now  the  trees  were 
fewer,  for  the  suburbs  wero  reached.  Scattered 
residences  surrounded  with  shrubbery  had  ap- 
peared upon  the  banks  ;  and  already  here  was  the 
boat-house,  craning  over  the  water  as  if  curious  to 
look  at  its  own  reflection.  And  on  the  slope  of 
the  hill  beyond  there  might  be  seen  an  ungainly 
flat  surface,  suggesting  the  broad  back  of  some 
waddling  animal,  but  which  was  recognizable  as 
the  top  of  the  street  car. 

Kennett  was  pulling  in  to  the  shore.  "  Layard, 
and  Schliemann,  and  Di  Cesnola  made  valuable 
researches,"  he  remarked,  as  he  helped  her  from 
the  boat.  "  They  knew  where  Nineveh,  and  Troy, 
and  Salamis  were,  no  doubt ;  but  one  other  ra- 
ther notable  place  they  don't  exactly  locate."  He 
laughed,  musingly.  "  Who  could  have  imagined 
it  was  so  far  west !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  What  is  all  that  ?  "  asked  Felicia,  curiously. 

But  he  only  laughed  again,  and  said  that  it  was 
not  worth  repeating  and  explaining. 

As  they  reached  the  car  they  descried  Fred, 


90  FELICIA. 

coming  in  a  violent  hurry,  flushed  and  panting. 
He  said  that  the  "  boss  "  at  the  blacksmith  shop 
had  sent  a  man  after  the  phaeton,  who  would  take 
the  horse  home  and  explain  the  accident.  "  He  's 
got  there  by  this  time,  with  Henry  Clay,  and  told 
papa  all  about  it,"  said  Fred  with  a  certain  satis- 
faction. Felicia  thought  Fred  manifested  consid- 
erable acumen  in  denying  himself  the  pleasure  of 
more  equestrian  exercise,  and  the  glory  of  relat- 
ing his  sensational  story  in  the  paternal  presence. 
She  pictured  to  herself,  with  some  amusement,  his 
serious,  anxious,  sunburned  face,  when  he  warned 
the  emissary  —  as  no  doubt  he  did  —  to  say  no-  / 
thing  of  his  ride  on  Henry  Clay  through  the  Park, 
and  when  he  magnified  the  older  charioteer's  share 
in  the  accident. 

The  three  started  in  a  sufficiently  amicable 
frame  of  mind.  But  when  Fred  learned  that  Fe- 
licia and  Kennett  had  been  upon  the  water,  his 
sky  was  abruptly  overcast ;  it  was  difficult  to  ap- 
pease him  ;  he  wanted  to  begin  the  afternoon  over 
again  ;  he  wanted  a  new  deal ;  he  would  fain,  like 
Joshua,  command  the  sun  to  stand  still.  He  bit- 
terly and  illogically  upbraided  them  with  having 
gone  on  the  river  without  him.  "  Always  trine  ter 
beat  me  out'n  my  fun,"  he  whined.  "An' what 
do  I  want  with  this  old  knife,  ennyhow  ?  I  met 
that  boy  again,  an'  went  an'  traded  my  two  good 
whangs  o'  leather  fur  it.  An'  I  ain't  been  on 
that  river  fur  a  month  o'  Sundays." 

All  the  way  home  he  was  malcontent  and  mo- 


FELICIA.  91 

rose,  and  meditated  bitterly  on  his  grievances, 
commercial  and  social. 

It  was  only  the  lumbering,  ungraceful  summer 
car,  drawn  by  two  big  mules,  driven  by  a  red-faced, 
beery  Irishman,  presided  over  by  a  grizzled  and 
grim  conductor.  No,  no ;  rather,  it  was  an  en- 
chanted chariot,  rolling  through  the  warm,  sunset- 
tinted  twilight,  carrying  Happiness  and  Hope, 
attended  by  Love  and  Constancy  and  all  the 
Graces.  Far  away,  the  city  stretched  in  shadowy 
uncertainty  ;  already  the  purple  vistas  were  en- 
riched by  lines  of  yellow  gleams,  that  crossed  each 
other  in  a  tangled  maze,  like  a  swarm  of  fireflies  ; 
ruby  points,  advancing  and  receding,  gemmed  the 
dusky  streets  ;  the  tinkle  of  bells  was  borne  faintly 
on  the  air ;  the  silver  sphere  of  the  full  moon, 
slowly  appearing  above  the  eastern  roofs,  outlined 
them  against  the  darkly  blue  sky  with  shining 
white  gleams. 

When  the  trio  of  pleasure-seekers  approached 
John  Hamilton's  house,  they  saw  him  smoking  a 
cigar,  as  he  leaned  in  a  sufficiently  graceful  atti- 
tude against  one  of  the  big  fluted  pillars  at  the 
head  of  the  flight  of  steps.  The  lingering  day- 
light showed  the  flowers  in  the  grass-plot,  and  the 
vines  about  the  walls.  The  windows  were  open, 
and  through  the  lace  curtains  streamed  the  sub- 
dued radiance  of  a  shaded  gas-jet. 

"  That  is  like  a  stage-setting,"  remarked  Hugh 
Kennett.  "  In  another  moment  you  will  see  ad- 
vancing down  the  right  centre  the  first  lady,  or 
the  villain,  or  the  heavy  father." 


92  FELICIA. 

"  There 's  the  heavy  father,  now,  is  n't  he, 
Fred  ?  "  said  Felicia. 

Fred  only  mumbled  that  he  did  n't  know,  an' 
didn't  care,  an'  didn't  want  nuthiu'  tcr  say  tor 
her,  —  always  trine  ter  cheat  somebody  out'n 
their  fun. 

John  Hamilton  was  a  cordial  soul.  When  Fe- 
licia introduced  her  companion,  though  he  won- 
dered grea.tly  whether  she  had  met  him  at  Ma- 
dame Sevier's  or  at  home,  he  received  the  stranger 
like  a  suddenly  found  friend,  ardently  shook  hands, 
and  warmly  invited  him  indoors. 

Kennett  replied  that  he  was  sorry  he  could  not 
come  in,  but  he  had  not  time ;  he  was  due  down- 
town now. 

"  We  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  at  any  time," 
said  the  master  of  the  house. 

Hie  heartiness  of  tone  seemed  to  awaken  reci- 
procal warmth.  Keunett  replied,  with  the  air  of 
very  amicably  receiving  an  advance,  that  next 
week  he  should  be  at  leisure,  and  should  be  glad 
to  avail  himself  of  the  invitation.  He  expected  to 
spend  his  vacation  in  Chilounatti.  It  was  an 
agreeable  prospect.  He  had  been  knocking  about 
from  pillar  to  post  for  so  long,  he  thought  he 
should  enjoy  a  rest.  Delightful  weather  just  now. 
And  then  he  lifted  his  hat  and  said  good-evening. 

"  Glad  to  have  met  you,  Mr.  Kennett,"  declared 
John  Hamilton,  unreservedly ;  and  as  the  sound 
of  the  stranger's  footsteps  died  away,  he  turned 
to  his  sister. 


FELICIA.  93 

"  Who  is  that  fellow,  Felicia?  "  he  asked,  with 
vivacious  curiosity. 

"  That  is  the  Mr.  Kennett  I  mentioned  to  you. 
He  is  a  cousin  of  cousin  Robert's,"  she  replied,  as 
they  entered  the  hall  together. 

"  Did  you  meet  him  at  Raymond's  house  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  He  was  there  one  day  when  Fred 
and  I  happened  to  call." 

"What  is  his  business?"  asked  John  Hamil- 
ton, somewhat  indifferently,  now  that  his  curiosity 
was  satisfied. 

u  I  don't  know.  I  never  heard  him  mention 
business  except  what  he  said  to  you  a  moment 
since.  I  have  met  him  only  three  times.  He 
was  in  the  Park  last  Saturday,  and,  while  I  was 
waiting  for  Fred,  he  came  up  and  talked  to  me. 
He  met  us  again  this  afternoon,  after  the  phaeton 
was  broken,  and  I  rowed  with  him  from  the  Park 
as  far  as  the  street  railroad." 

She  said  to  herself  that  there  should  be  nothing 
clandestine  about  the  affair.  If  any  objections 
were  to  be  made,  now  was  the  time  to  make  them. 
John  Hamilton  was  apparently  disposed  to  ad- 
vance none. 

"  Seems  an  agreeable  sort  of  fellow,"  he  re- 
marked, casually. 


V. 

THIS  year,  the  summer  was  very  long  and  hot. 
From  early  morning  till  the  reluctant  sun  sank 
slowly  below  the  horizon,  the  heated  city  rarely 
f«lt  the  thrill  of  a  breeze.  Sometimes  sudden, 
short,  angry  thunderstorms  passed  tumultuously, 
and  left  the  air  warm  as  ever,  but  permeated  with 
a  heavy  moisture.  People  plied  their  palm-leaf 
fans,  declared  that  it  was  intolerable,  and  left 
town  in  great  numbers. 

Hugh  Kennett,  who  had  promptly  availed  him- 
self of  John  Hamilton's  invitation  to  call,  was  be- 
fore long  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  house  ;  indeed, 
almost  the  only  visitor,  so  general  had  been  the 
exodus.  The  method  of  entertaining  him  might 
have  been  deemed  monotonous,  but  was  in  a  cer- 
tain sense  flattering.  He  was  allowed  to  slip  into 
the  little  circle  on  the  footing  of  a  family  friend. 
He  was  invited  more  than  once  to  dinner,  quite 
informally.  He  fell  into  the  habit  of  walking 
by  the  house  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  there 
was  usually  a  plausible  excuse  to  stop  and  chat 
with  the  group  disposed  on  the  front  steps,  after 
the  custom  in  Southern  and  quasi-Southern,  cities ; 
he  had  brought  a  book  they  had  had  under  dis- 
cussion, or  the  illustrated  papers,  with  the  last 


FELICIA.  95 

political  cartoon ;  some  one  would  give  him  a  has- 
sock ;  the  dusk  would  deepen  ;  the  few  moments 
would  multiply ;  the  perfume  of  heliotrope  and 
roses  would  burden  the  warm,  languorous  air ;  the 
gentle  voices  of  the  women  would  rise  and  fall; 
the  moonbeams  would  slip  down  on  their  hair. 

It  was  Mrs.  Hamilton's  habit,  at  a  regular  hour 
every  evening,  to  repair  to  the  front  room  upstairs, 
to  put  the  baby  to  bed.  This  conscientious  lady 
would  not  attempt  to  overhear  the  conversation 
of  the  young  people  ;  she  only  undressed  the  baby 
near  the  window,  and  their  voices  would  float  up 
to  her.  His  was  resonant  and  carried  well,  and 
was  far  more  distinct  than  Felicia's.  There 
seemed  to  be  nothing  very  important  said.  Some- 
times his  laughter  rang  out :  it  was  a  pleasant 
laugh,  peculiarly  rich,  full,  and  musical;  it  had 
an  appreciative  suggestion.  Occasionally  there 
were  long  pauses,  and  no  wind  stirred  the  vines, 
and  the  flowers  gave  out  a  faint,  sweet  breath,  and 
the  white  blocks  of  moonlight  on  the  streets  and 
sidewalks  were  unbroken  by  a  passing  shadow. 
The 'discreet  matron  made  the  job  of  undressing 
the  baby  a  long  and  elaborate  job,  and  came 
down,  with  an  innocent  face  and  the  consciousness 
of  duty  well  performed,  to  take  her  share  in  the 
talk,  —  for  the  most  part  trivial  chat  concerning 
the  incidents  of  the  day,  or  the  weather,  or  that 
unfailing  theme,  the  dullness  of  town. 

"  I  should  have  found  it  unendurable  but  for 
my  calls  here,"  he  once  said,  frankly.  "  I  have 


96  FELICIA. 

not  had  much  of  the  home  atmosphere  in  my  life. 
I  had  no  idea  that  I  should  appreciate  the  home 
atmosphere  so  thoroughly  as  I  do." 

They  grew  to  know  him  very  well ;  but  he  was 
not  a  difficult  person  to  know.  He  was  trans- 
parent, and  in  fact  sometimes  lacked  tact.  He 
was  not  sensitive,  —  in  the  interpretation  of  being 
on  the  alert  for  slights  ;  either  from  pronounced 
self-esteem  or  because  of  reliance  on  the  inten- 
tion of  others,  he  was  apt  to  place  a  kindly  con- 
struction on  anything  that  was  apparently  equi- 
vocal. He  seemed  to  be  tolerant  in  judgment, 
and  generous.  There  was  but  slight  suggestion 
of  a  fiercer  stratum  underlying  the  smooth  sur- 
face of  his  character.  Fred,  it  is  true,  had  a  lurid 
theory. 

"  He 's  got  a  orful  high  temper,"  the  boy  re- 
marked one  day,  when  the  new  friend  was  under 
discussion  in  the  family  circle.  "  Yer  oughter 
heard  him  givin'  fits  ter  the  man  that  come  so 
near  runnin'  over  me  on  Sixth  Street  with  his 
team  yestiddy,  when  I  was  jus'  crossin'  the  street, 
an'  warn't  thinkin'  'bout  nuthin',  nor  lookin'. 
An'  Mr.  Kennett,  he  happened  to  be  passin',  an' 
he  jus'  jumped  off  the  sidewalk,  an'  caught  the 
horses  by  the  reins,  an'  hollered  ter  the  man  ter 
mind  what  he  was  about.  An'  he  was  mighty 
mad,  Mr.  Kennett  was,  an'  —  swore." 

He  said  this  in  a  slightly  awed  voice,  and  looked 
seriously  at  his  mother,  doubtful,  but  impressed. 
She  rose  to  the  occasion. 


FELICIA.  97 

"  You  shock  me,"  she  said.  "  How  could  Mr. 
Kennett  do  so  ungentlemanly  a  thing  as  to  swear !  " 

Felicia  glanced  up  quickly,  as  Fred  left  the 
room. 

"  Why  should  n't  Mr.  Kennett  swear,  if  he 
likes  ?  "  she  demanded,  aggressively. 

"  According;  to  Fred's    account  there  was  no 

o 

reason,"  replied  Mrs.  Hamilton,  with  a  mild  gig- 
gle. 

Notwithstanding  her  partisanship,  something  in 
this  episode  grated  on  our  fastidious  young  lady's 
ideas  of  the  fitness  of  things,  and  it  might  have 
been  with  a  lurking  intention  as  to  the  effect 
of  a  subtle,  unrecognized  influence  that  she  con- 
trived, at  the  first  opportunity,  to  steer  the  con- 
versation into  the  subject  of  self-command,  and 
to  lay  down  some  impersonal,  and  it  might  even 
be  said  elementary,  propositions  touching  the  triv- 
iality of  character  suggested  by  an  incapacity  to 
control  the  temper.  "  It  is  as  ludicrous  and  weak 
for  a  man  to  stamp  about,  and  break  things,  and 
swear  because  he  is  in  a  rage  as  it  is  for  a  woman 
to  mope  and  cry  because  she  feels  nervous,"  said 
the  young  Mentor,  didactically. 

And  Mrs.  Hamilton,  who  happened  to  overhear 
this,  noticed  that  Mr.  Kennett  wore  a  bland  and 
innocent  unconsciousness,  which  induced  in  the 
matron  of  a  decade  the  reflection  that,  if  Felicia 
were  ambitious  of  a  missionary  career,  the  hea- 
then offered  a  more  promising  field  than  the  one 
she  seemed  to  have  in  contemplation. 


98  FELICIA. 

He  was  mild  mannered  and  peaceable  enough, 
however,  so  far  as  they  knew  of  their  own  know- 
ledge, and  Fred's  story  might  require  a  grain  or 
two  of  salt. 

In  their  long  interviews  he  was  somewhat  given 
to  silence ;  he  talked  little  about  himself,  and 
was  little  inclined  to  reminiscence.  Once  he 
spoke  of  his  mother,  who  had  died  when  he  was 
growing  into  manhood.  She  was  very  strict,  he 
said,  very  stern  and  uncompromising  ;  she  was 
the  most  devoted  of  mothers  ;  she  had  no  happi- 
ness save  in  the  welfare  of  her  children.  His 
father  he  mentioned  occasionally,  with  that  ten- 
derness which  Felicia  had  earlier  divined  had 
survived  a  bitter  and  long-felt  grief.  Of  his  sis- 
ters, the  elder,  three  years  his  junior,  had  died  at 
twenty-two.  That  loss  had  broken  his  father's 
heart  ;  he  did  not  live  long  afterward.  The 
younger  sister  had  married  about  a  year  ago,  and 
had  been  abroad  ever  since.  He  said  he  had 
been  disappointed  ;  he  thought  she  deserved  well 
of  fate ;  she  was  very  beautiful  and  talented. 
Her  husband  was  a  good  fellow,  but  common- 
place. 

This,  in  effect,  was  all  that  was  revealed,  in 
those  summer  evenings,  of  Hugh  Kennett's  past. 
To  Mrs.  Hamilton,  afterward,  it  seemed  very 
meagre,  though  at  the  time  she  felt  no  laelc. 
And  as  for  him,  —  when  a  man  is  happy  he  thinks 
little  of  his  past.  He  was  doing  what  few  can  do 
in  a  lifetime,  — he  was  living  his  present;  he  was 


FELICIA.  99 

interpreting  that  problem  which  eludes  us  when 
it  is  attainable,  and  mocks  us  when  it  has  slipped 
by,  at  once  the  simplest  and  the  most  complex  ele- 
ment of  existence,  that  tantalizing  mystery,  Now. 
His  past  was  narrowed  to  what  was  said  and 
glanced  yesterday  evening  ;  his  future  was 
bounded  by  the  possibilities  of  to-morrow. 

Felicia,  too,  was  alive  in  every  sensitive  suscep- 
tibility to  the  influences  which  permeated  the  in- 
tense momentous  present  of  these  radiant  summer 
days.  Life  had  come  to  be  enchantment  to  her  ; 
the  prosaic  episodes  of  the  daily  routine  were 
transfigured  and  dignified;  monotony,  —  it  was 
an  unrealized  and  a  forgotten  force  ;  thought  was 
reverie.  She,  too,  had  no  longer  need  for  memory 
or  anticipation.  Her  beauty  had  acquired  a  new 
softness  ;  there  was  a  sort  of  tender  appeal  about 
her,  and  yet  the  delicate  and  ethereal  exaltation 
which  possessed  her  had  a  less  poetic  element,  for 
she  was  prosaically  good-humored  ;  annoyances 
that  would  once  have  tried  her  sorely  had  become 
merely  unexpected  opportunity  for  mirth ;  she 
had  developed  sympathy  and  tact ;  she  was  gentle 
and  amenable,  and  easily  pleased.  "A  girl  in 
love  is  a  very  agreeable  visitor  in  the  house,"  was 
Mrs.  Hamilton's  comment,  —  a  mental  comment, 
for  she  was  a  prudent  woman,  and  in  silence  smil- 
ingly watched  the  little  drama,  in  which  the  ac- 
tors were  too  deeply  absorbed  to  remember  the 
spectator. 

All  this  time  John  Hamilton  was  absent  from 


100  FELICIA. 

home.  The  day  after  he  met  Hugh  Kennett,  he 
had  been  called  away  to  certain  famous  Dakota 
wheat-fields.  He  was  going  into  very  heavy  enter- 
prises ;  he  proposed  to  himself  that  his  opera- 
tions in  the  near  future  should  be  still  heavier ; 
he  aspired  to  be  the  Napoleon  of  the  next  great 
"  deal."  Fortune,  so  far,  had  favored  him,  and 
he  was  liberal  as  well  as  ambitious.  He  was  ready 
to  give  appropriate  exponents  of  his  increasing 
prosperity,  and  had  bought  a  particularly  eligible 
corner  lot,  on  which  he  was  building  a  fine  house. 
One  of  Mrs.  Hamilton's  reasons  for  liking  Hugh 
Kennett  was  the  fact  that  he  had  so  much  taste 
and  acumen  in  the  matter  of  the  new  house,  and 
she  frequently  consulted  him. 

"  Don't  you  think  the  walls  of  that  east  room 
should  be  Pompeian  red,  Mr.  Kennett  ? "  she 
said  one  day,  fixing  her  eyes  on  his  face  as  if  she 
would  read  his  very  soul.  She  was  constantly 
growing  more  assured  as  to  manner,  and  her  in- 
creasing prosperity  expressed  itself  more  distinctly, 
still  with  circumspection,  in  the  appointments  of 
her  house,  her  carriage,  and  her  dress.  She  was 
not  the  less  eager,  however,  to  avail  herself  of  the 
advice  and  experience  of  others,  and  kept  her  own 
views  in  a  condition  to  be  instantly  modified  by 
circumstances.  "  Pompeian  red,  with  panels,  — 
those  large  panels,  with  arabesques  in  shaded 
reds.  I  showed  you  the  design." 

"  Well,  to  be  perfectly  candid,"  he  replied,  "  it 
seems  to  me  those  panels  are  too  pronounced,  too 
theatrical." 


FELICIA.  101 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  she  said,  and  meditated 
deeply  on  this  view. 

They  were  going,  this  afternoon,  to  look  over 
the  new  house.  Mrs.  Hamilton  —  her  plump 
little  figure  encased  in  a  gray  and  white  India 
silk,  which  seemed  refreshingly  light  and  cool  — 
walked  in  front  with  Kennett.  Her  face,  flushed 
with  heat  and  exercise,  under  the  soft  brown  hair 
that  waved  on  each  side  of  her  candid  brow,  was 
a  study  of  anxiety  and  complacence.  Her  round, 
gentle,  inquiring  eyes  took  in  all  the  details  about 
the  ambitious  mansions  they  passed.  Her  little 
remarks  were  not  sufficiently  absorbing  to  pre- 
vent his  hearing  every  word  uttered  by  Felicia, 
who,  with  Fred  as  escort,  made  up  the  party. 

It  chanced  that,  in  the  course  of  the  expedition, 
Mrs.  Hamilton  was  in  the  hall  in  consultation  with 
the  architect,  on  the  endless  subject  of  the  stair- 
case, Fred  had  strolled  off,  and  the  other  two 
found  themselves  in  the  great  unfurnished  draw- 
ing-rooms. Felicia  had  been  much  exercised  about 
various  points  under  discussion,  and  had  given 
her  opinion  with  frankness  and  vivacity.  "  When 
those  changes  about  the  sliding-doors  upstairs 
have  been  made  and  the  frescoing  finished,  it 
will  be  almost  perfect ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  "  she 
said,  appealing  to  Kennett. 

He  did  not  reply.  He  was  leaning  against  the 
window-frame,  his  eyes  fixed  on  her,  as  she  stood 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  She  had  come  at  a 
moment's  notice,  in  the  lawn  morning-dress  — 


102  FELICIA. 

white  flecked  with  pink  —  she  was  wearing. 
Nothing  could  be  simpler.  She  was  without 
gloves.  Her  garden  hat  shaded  her  face.  She 
seemed  to  him  fair  and  fresh  as  a  flower. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly,  "  this 
is  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  you  out  of  spirits. 
You  look  dismal.  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  he  returned,  a  trifle  embar- 
rassed. 

"  So  I  perceived  ;  but  of  what  ?  " 

"  Well,  to  be  candid,  I  was  thinking  that  you 
ought  to  have  a  house  like  this,  —  a  house  of  your 
own." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Felicia,  "  I  should  n't  like  it !  " 

"  You  seem  very  fond  of  all  this  sort  of  thing," 
he  persisted.  "  You  were  describing  with  actual 
enthusiasm  the  upholstery  they  have  selected  for 
this  room." 

"  I  am  interested  —  for  other  people." 

"  Frankly,  now,  would  n't  you  like  it  for  your- 
self?" 

She  glanced  about  her  critically,  —  at  the  big 
rooms  opposite,  the  big  hall,  the  sweep  of  the 
stair-case,  the  carved  newel-post,  which  had  cost 
Mrs.  Hamilton  several  nights'  rest  lest  it  should 
not  be  exactly  what  was  desired.  She  tried  to 
imagine  it  all  when  finished,  —  the  rich  and  ac- 
cordant coloring,  the  pictures,  the  deep,  soft  car- 
pets, the  sheen  of  mirrors.  Then  she  turned  her 
eyes  on  him  with  a  smile. 

*'  I  hope  it  is  not  discreditable  to  me,"  she  re- 


FELICIA.  103 

plied,  —  "  an  irresponsible,  Bohemian  way  of 
looking  at  things,  —  but,  frankly,  I  should  n't  care 
to  have  a  house  like  this.  Sophie  is  going  to  find 
it  a  white  elephant ;  a  good  thing  in  its  way,  but 
a  great  responsibility." 

His  face  was  less  grave,  but  he  shook  his  head. 
"  I  am  afraid  you  don't  understand  relative  val- 
ues," he  said. 

"  Why,  you  are  doing  me  injustice  !  "  cried 
Felicia,  crimsoning  suddenly.  "  This  is  the  first 
time  I  ever  knew  you  to  do  any  one  injustice. 
You  must  think  me  very  frivolous  to  care  so  much 
for  things,  —  mere  things" 

"  No,  no ;  you  misunderstand  me,"  he  protested. 
"  I  was  only  a  little  curious  as  to  how  you  feel 
about  such  matters.  What  do  you  care  for  most, 
if  not  for  '  things '  ?  " 

"  Well,"  began  Felicia,  appeased,  —  she  was 
easily  appeased,  "  I  believe  I  care  most  for  people, 
agreeable,  bright,  cheerful  people ;  not  glum  indi- 
viduals, who  stand  in  a  window  and  quarrel  about 
nothing.  Then  I  like  change  and  variety.  I  am 
fond  of  things,  too,  —  pretty  things  ;  but  princi- 
pally I  like  people.  I  have  seen  so  much  deadly 
dullness  in  the  best  houses.  That  is  what  I  hate, 
—  dullness." 

All  the  light  had  come  back  to  his  face. 

"  What  you  like,''  he  said,  recapitulating,  "is 
brightness,  and  what  you  hate  is  dullness." 

"  Yes,"  said  Felicia,  with  her  sunny  smile.  She 
had  perched  on  one  of  the  carpenter's  saw-horses, 


104  FELICIA. 

and  leaned  her  elbow  among  the  shavings  scat- 
tered about  the  big,  rough  work-bench ;  she  sup- 
ported her  head  on  her  hand.  She  had  been  run- 
ning up  and  down  stairs ;  the  expression  of  her 
eyes  showed  that  she  was  tired. 

"  And  it  would  not  be  a  bitterness,  a  trial,  to 
you  to  give  up  —  I  have  often  thought  it  a  great 
sacrifice  a  man  situated  as  I  am  would  ask  you  to 
make,  if  he  should  tell  you  —  that  he  —  that  — 
that  I "  — 

He  was  agitated  ;  he  hesitated,  yet  he  glanced 
around  in  intense  impatience  because  of  an  inter- 
ruption, as  Mrs.  Hamilton  came  suddenly  into  the 
room. 

"  Felicia,"  she  began,  with  excitement,  "  don't 
you  see  that  carriage  stopping  in  front  of  the 
door  ?  Who  can  it  be  ?  "  She  had  rustled  to 
the  window.  "  Why,  it  is  Mr.  Raymond  !  "  she 
exclaimed. 

A  gentleman  had  alighted  from  the  vehicle,  and 
was  advancing  up  the  pavement.  He  saw  the 
group  at  the  window,  and  as  they  emerged  into 
the  hall  to  meet  him  he  entered  at  the  front  door. 
His  face  was  grave. 

"  They  told  me  at  the  other  house  you  were 
here,"  he  said  hurriedly,  as  he  greeted  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton. "  I  have  bad  news.  Mr.  Stanley  died  last 
night,  very  unexpectedly.  The  physicians  had 
pronounced  him  convalescent.  I  must  ask  you 
and  Felicia  to  give  some  orders  for  Amy  and  Mrs. 
Brant,  and  "  — 


FELICIA.  105 

He  paused  abruptly  as  he  caught  sight  of  his 
cousin ;  there  was  much  surprise  in  his  face  as 
they  shook  hands.  "  Have  you  been  in  town  all 
summer,  Hugh  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  All  summer,"  replied  Kennett. 

Raymond  looked  hard  at  him,  the  troubled  per- 
plexity deepening  on  his  face.  Nothing  further 
was  said,  however.  He  turned  to  Mrs.  Hamilton 
to  reply  to  her  interrogations  and  remarks  touch- 
ing the  news  he  had  brought,  and  gave  Felicia  a 
note  from  his  wife,  —  hasty  and  blotted  with 
tears.  There  were  tears  in  her  sympathetic  eyes 
as  she  read  it. 

"  You  can  go  now  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Raymond. 
"  The  stores  will  be  closed  in  an  hour  or  two." 

Felicia  assented,  and  started  toward  the  door. 

"  Won't  you  have  time,  Felicia,  to  put  on  a 
street  dress  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Hamilton,  in  dismay. 
She  had  adopted  not  a  little  of  the  young  lady's 
exacting  code  of  externals. 

"  Oh,  what  does  it  matter  at  such  a  time !  "  ex- 
claimed Felicia  ;  and  Hugh  Kennett  thought  loy- 
ally how  petty,  how  trivial-minded,  were  the  best 
of  women  —  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  one  of  the  best 
of  women  —  in  comparison  with  a  supremely 
lovely  nature  like  this.  He  did  not  accompany 
the  trio. 

"  I  will  take  Fred  home  before  I  go  down 
town,"  he  said,  as  he  stood  on  the  sidewalk,  by 
the  carriage  door. 

As  they  drove  away,  Mr.  Raymond  remarked, 
"  You  seem  to  know  Keimett  pretty  well." 


106  FELICIA. 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed ;  he  has  been  such  a  pleasant 
friend,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  enthusiastically. 
"  He  is  so  agreeable,  and  high  minded,  and  well 
informed,  and  such  a  gentleman." 

Felicia's  shining  eyes  —  dewy  and  dark  with 
feeling  —  were  fixed  on  the  speaker ;  her  lips 
wore  that  curve  which  expresses  more  happiness 
than  a  smile.  Robert  Raymond  thought  he  had 
never  seen  her  so  childlike,  so  beautiful,  so  uncon- 
strained, as  she  sat  opposite  him,  in  her  simple 
dress,  with  her  soft,  ungloved  hands  lying  lightly 
in  her  lap.  "  How  her  face  reveals  her  heart !  " 
he  thought. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "  Kennett  is  an  agreeable  fel- 
low. Does  Hamilton  know  him  ?  " 

"  They  were  introduced  to  each  other  the  even- 
ing before  John  received  the  telegram  calling  him 
to  Dakota.  By  the  way,  I  am  looking  for  John 
every  day,  now." 

"  He  is  just  back,"  announced  Raymond,  sud- 
denly. "  We  met  on  the  train  to-day." 

"  Oh,  dear,  perhaps  I  ought  to  go  home  !  "  cried 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  in  a  flutter. 

"  No  ;  he  knew  I  should  see  you,  and  he  asked 
me  to  tell  you  that  he  could  not  leave  the  office 
until  late,  — there  is  so  much  to  arrange." 

"  Oh,  well,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  settling 
back  contentedly.  To  be  sure,  the  opportunity 
was  a  melancholy  one,  but  even  the  duty  of  order- 
ing a  friend's  mourning  is  its  own  recompense, 
and  spending  money  on  so  sad  an  occasion  affords 
the  Mrs.  Hamiltons  of  this  world  a  gloomy  joy. 


FELICIA.  107 

It  was  evident  that  the  time  for  the  purchases 
was  very  short,  yet  as  the  two  ladies  were  about 
to  enter  the  store  at  which  the  carriage  stopped 
Raymond  detained  them.  He  was  greatly  dis- 
quieted ;  his  eye  was  anxious  and  wandering ;  he 
began  more  than  one  sentence,  and  broke  off  in 
its  midst. 

"  There  is  still  something  I  must  see  about,"  he 
said,  uncertainly.  "  I  will  come  back  here  and 
say  good-by  —  or  —  no  —  I  shall  not  have  time. 
Perhaps,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  you  will  drive  down  to 
the  depot.  I  will  meet  you  there." 

He  left  them  abruptly,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton 
stared  at  him  as  he  went.  "  How  funny  he  is  !  " 
she  said,  wonderingly. 

The  truth  was,  the  Reverend  Robert's  con- 
science was  after  him,  and  it  pursued  him  in  a 
lively  fashion  till  he  reached  the  office  of  Hamil- 
ton and  Gale  —  Commission  Merchants. 

He  was  very  nearly  left  by  the  train,  this  after- 
noon. Mrs.  Hamilton  and  Felicia,  sitting  in  the 
carriage  at  the  depot,  had  waited  half  an  hour ; 
the  locomotive  had  pulled  into  the  building ; 
crowds  of  passengers  were  boarding  the  cars 
before  they  saw  his  face  framed  by  the  window 
of  a  hack  that  was  driven  furiously  down  the 
street.  He  had  barely  time  for  hasty  adieux. 
"  Goocl-by,  good-by  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is  very 
kind  of  you  to  take  so  much  trouble." 

He  looked  hard  at  Felicia  ;  she  did  not  under- 
stand his  expression.  It  was  tender  ;  it  curiously 


108  FELICIA. 

blended  a  sort  of  compassion  and  a  sort  of  en- 
treaty. After  he  had  started  hurriedly  from  them, 
he  turned  back  suddenly,  took  her  hand,  and  held 
it  in  a  strong  clasp.  "  God  bless  you,  my  dear 
child,"  he  said. 

"  He  is  very,  very  odd  to-day,"  said  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton, again  gazing  vaguely  after  his  receding 
figure.  "  How  strange,  his  coming  back  to  bid 
you  good-by  again,  Felicia,  and  how  strangely  he 
looked  at  you  !  " 

"  I  suppose  it  is  because  Amy  is  so  fond  of  me," 
said  Felicia.  "  Now  that  she  is  grieved  he  feels 
very  kindly  to  any  one  she  loves." 

But  she  did  not  quite  accept  her  own  explana- 
tion, and  pondered  on  that  pitiful  expression  of 
his  in  pained  bewilderment. 


VI. 

THAT  night  seemed  afterward  to  Felicia  like 
the  beginning  of  a  terrible  dream.  It  opened 
with  a  bitter  experience,  —  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life  she  received  a  cruel  look,  directed  point- 
blank  into  her  eyes.  To  be  admired,  quoted, 
commended  lavishly  and  injudiciously,  —  this  had 
been  her  lot  so  far  ;  and  to  her  half-brother,  — 
who  was  almost  double  her  age  —  she  was  in- 
debted for  more  than  a  fair  share  of  praise  and 
petting.  To  receive  from  him  a  prolonged  stare, 
keen,  critical,  —  no,  was  it  not  more  ?  even  angry, 
bitterly  angry,  —  it  was  like  receiving  a  blow  in 
the  face. 

As  there  was  no  visitor  this  evening,  she  had 
shared  with  Sophie  the  diversion  of  getting  the 
baby  to  bed.  She  was  sitting  on  the  floor,  with 
the  child  in  her  arms,  when  Hamilton's  step  and 
voice  sounded  in  the  hall  below,  and  his  wife 
ran  downstairs  to  meet  him. 

As  they  entered  the  room,  Felicia  called  out 
gayly,  without  rising,  "  See  how  strong'  the  baby 
is,  John  !  See  how  she  has  learned  to  stand  alone 
while  you  were  away !  Stand  alone-y,  precious, 
for  your  auntie." 

She  looked  up,  startled,  as  her  brother  spoke  ; 
his  voice  was  cold  and  hard. 


110  FELICIA. 

"  Pack  your  trunks  at  once,  Felicia,"  he  said, 
abruptly.  "  We  shall  start  for  the  East  to-mor- 
row, and  you  will  go  with  us." 

She  rose  to  her  feet  in  surprise,  the  child  still 
in  her  arms. 

"  Going  East  to-morrow  ?  "  she  repeated  faintly. 

Then  it  was  he  bent  upon  her  that  cruel  look. 

"You  don't  seem  pleased,"  he  said,  with  a 
short  laugh.  "  I  thought  you  would  be  delighted 
to  get  back  to  your  beloved  Madame  Sevier 
again." 

"I  —  I  don't  want  to  go  now  —  it 's  so  —  so 
hot,"  said  Felicia,  hesitating. 

"  We  '11  hunt  a  cool  resort ;  Mount  Desert,  per- 
haps. Or  maybe  we  '11  try  Long  Branch,  Cape 
May,  Saratoga.  I  don't  know  where  we  '11  go. 
We  '11  have  an  outing.  You  and  Sophie  have 
been  penned  in  this  dull  hole  all  summer."  Again 
he  laughed,  his  eyes  still  fixed  on  hers. 

For  a  moment  she  did  not  reply  :  then  she  fal- 
tered, "  This  is  very  strange.  It  is  not  proper  for 
me  to  go  off  on  a  pleasure  trip  so  soon  after  the 
death  of  a  near  connection  of  my  mother's.  Papa 
will  be  very  angry." 

"  This  trip  is  my  affair.  I  propose  to  account 
to  father  for  your  movements,"  returned  Hamil- 
ton, significantly. 

She  did  not,  as  might  have  been  expected  of 
one  so  indulged  and  so  spirited,  resent  his  tone. 
She  was  amazed  and  startled,  and  she  quailed  a 
little.  She  lifted  her  eyes  with  a  propitiatory 


FELICIA.  Ill 

look.  "  You  are  not  angry  with  me,  brother  ?  " 
she  said,  almost  meekly.  She  usually  addressed 
him  by  his  name ;  he  softened  a  moment,  then 
hardened  again. 

"  Why  should  I  be  angry  with  you  ?  "  he  de- 
manded. "  Give  the  baby  to  Julia,  and  go  to 
your  packing.  We  leave  in  the  morning  at  five 
o'clock." 

Felicia  went  to  her  room.  She  stood  medita- 
tive and  motionless,  near  the  window,  her  eyes 
upon  the  scene  without.  The  moonlight  alter- 
nated with  parallelograms  of  black  shadow  ;  very 
quiet  was  the  street ;  the  stars  burned  faintly  ;  the 
wind  had  died ;  fireflies  gleamed  fitfully  among 
the  foliage  of  the  shade  trees  along  the  sidewalk, 
whence  she  was  wont  to  catch  the  advancing  red 
glow  of  Hugh  Kennett's  cigar.  She  walked 
slowly  to  her  desk,  seated  herself,  and  began  to 
write.  Her  brother,  lounging  on  the  balcony  of 
his  own  room,  watched  her  curiously  through  the 
vista  of  doors,  left  open  that  any  welcome  vagrant 
breeze  might  enter.  He  saw  that  she  hesitated 
as  she  wrote  ;  that  she  made  more  than  one  be- 
ginning ;  that  she  read  over  the  few  lines  hur- 
riedly, placed  the  sheet  in  an  envelope,  and  di- 
rected it  with  a  precipitancy  that  contrasted  with 
her  previous  deliberation.  He  saw  her  hand  it  to 
the  maid,  who  had  been  packing  the  trunks,  with 
the  injunction  to  run  across  the  street  and  place 
it  in  the  letter-box. 

"  To-night,  Miss  Felicia  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  in 
surprise. 


112  FELICIA. 

"  Yes,  now,"  she  replied. 

John  Hamilton  rose,  entered  from  the  balcony, 
and  walked  downstairs  composedly.  When  the 
servant  had  laid  aside  the  articles  in  her  hands 
and  descended  with  the  note,  she  came  upon  him 
pacing  up  and  down  the  hall,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  a  cigar,  which  he  had  just  lighted, 
in  his  mouth. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  he  demanded,  glancing  at  the 
envelope  she  held. 

"  It  is  a  note  Miss  Felicia  wanted  me  to  post," 
the  servant  answered. 

He  held  out  his  hand  silently  for  the  note,  and 
as  he  read,  "  Mr.  Hugh  Kennett,  Lawrence  Ho- 
tel," he  turned  the  envelope  so  that  his  wife,  who 
chanced  to  be  coming  downstairs,  could  see  the 
address ;  then  he  handed  it  back  to  the  maid,  who 
passed  out  of  the  open  door  into  the  moonlit 
street. 

"  When  I  asked  you,  Sophie,"  he  said  bitterly, 
to  his  wife,  "  how  far  this  affair  had  gone,  you 
said  it  would  not  amount  to  anything.  I  thought 
then  you  were  mistaken,  and  I  think  so  now  more 
than  ever." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  made  no  reply.  She  had  a 
scared,  anxious  look ;  all  her  little  complacence, 
so  satisfactorily  growing  and  putting  forth  new 
shoots,  had  wilted  in  an  hour.  She  had  never 
seen  so  stern  an  expression  on  her  husband's  face. 
Much  bronzed  his  face  was  by  his  trip ;  his  hair 
and  mustache  had  grown  luxuriant ;  he  was 


FELICIA.  113 

stouter  than  when  he  left  home.  Big,  strong,  and 
prosperous,  his  was  the  very  face  and  figure  for 
placid  satisfaction ;  but  his  eyebrows  had  met  in 
a  heavy  frown,  he  gnawed  his  lip  under  his  flow- 
ing mustache.  t;  We  are  going  to  have  the  devil 
and  all  of  a  time  with  that  girl,"  he  prophesied, 
grimly. 

The  sunrise  was  hardly  more  than  a  rosy  glow 
over  the  landscape  when  the  Hamiltons  started  on 
their  "  outing,"  and  the  neighborhood  was  greatly 
amazed  because  of  the  suddenness  of  the  flitting. 

Heretofore  Felicia  had  been  an  excellent  trav- 
eler, always  ready,  well,  entertained,  good-hu- 
mored. The  new  faces,  the  variety  of  incident, 
even  the  rapidity  of  motion,  gave  her  that  keen 
sense  of  delight  impossible  to  one  less  healthy, 
young,  and  joyous.  Now  the  zest  was  lacking  to 
the  journey.  She  did  not  look  with  interest  at 
the  people  about  her,  and  busy  her  imagination 
with  their  histories,  the  comedies  and  tragedies  of 
their  lives ;  the  landscape  slipped  by  unheeded. 
Once  she  would  have  found  Fred  and  his  idiosyn- 
crasies under  these  new  circumstances  great  fun  ; 
now  his  eager  talk  tired  her ;  the  warmth  of  the 
weather  oppressed  her ;  she  was  irritated  by  the 
sound  of  the  train,  the  bustle,  the  confusion,  the 
swarms  of  people. 

When  the  party  reached  New  York,  and  later 
Boston,  she  had  the  shock  of  a  painful  surprise. 
Among  the  letters  which  had  been  sent  on  from 
Chilounatti,  there  was  no  reply  to  the  note  she 


114  FELICIA. 

had  written  Hugh  Kennett  the  evening  before 
she  left  town.  It  had  been  a  simple  little  note, 
merely  telling  him  of  the  unexpected  departure 
and  wishing  him  good-by.  But  she  had  confi- 
dently expected  a  reply,  and  his  silence  bewil- 
dered, pained,  and  cruelly  mortified  her.  The 
complication  of  feelings  developed  gradually  into 
the  first  deep  depression  of  spirit  she  had  ever 
known.  There  was  little  opportunity  for  distrac- 
tion in  outside  interests.  John  Hamilton's  idea 
of  summer  pleasuring  seemed  to  be  expressed  by 
a  swift,  transit  from  place  to  place  ;  to  see  all  that 
was  to  be  seen  and  to  buy  all  that  was  desired  in 
as  short  a  time  as  possible.  His  plan  was  to  take 
the  cities  first,  then  the  watering  places.  There 
was  much  of  isolation  in  this  style  of  enjoyment. 
Felicia's  New  York  friends  had  all  left  town. 
The  party  met  few  acquaintances,  and  found  but 
scant  entertainment  in  the  spectacle  of  metropoli- 
tan life  out  of  season, —  a  dismal  spectacle  enough ; 
like  a  moulting  bird,  an  absurd  caricature  of  it- 
self. 

To  Felicia  it  was  very  tiresome  to  wander 
through  the  picture-galleries,  and  gaze  vacantly 
at  the  works  of  art  designated  by  the  catalogues 
for  intelligent  admiration  ;  still  more  tiresome  to 
force  herself  to  take  interest  in  the  endless  dis- 
cussions concerning  carpets,  glass,  and  china  at 
the  various  fashionable  stores,  where  the  party 
came  to  be  well  known,  and  where  John  Hamil- 
ton's liberality  and  his  wife's  taste  extorted  high 


FELICIA.  115 

commendation.  Perhaps  something  was  extorted 
on  the  other  side,  but  as  the  Hamiltons  were  satis- 
fied with  their  purchases  we  need  make  no  moan. 

Felicia's  unhappiness  was  very  evident,  and 
now  it  was  that  John  Hamilton  should  have  taken 
the  field  in  force  with  a  bountiful  supply  of  am- 
munition in  the  way  of  tact.  If  Felicia  had  been 
the  recipient  of  the  customary  kind  consideration 
from  her  sister-in-law  and  of  his  half-jocular,  half- 
tender  petting,  she  would  naturally  have  turned 
to  their  affection,  and  the  impressions  of  the  last 
few  weeks  might  have  loosed  their  hold.  But 
Hamilton  proved  himself  grievously  lacking  in  dis- 
cernment, in  adroitness,  even  in  common  policy. 
He  was  a  man  of  strong  will  and  high  temper ; 
when  he  was  displeased  he  was  very  likely  to 
make  the  fact  more  patent  than  the  occasion  re- 
quired. 

There  was  something  hard  in  John  Hamilton. 
Many  of  those  who  knew  him  best  never  suspected 
it.  The  expression  of  his  florid  face,  his  jolly 
laughter,  his  free,  frank,  hearty  manner,  afforded 
no  suggestion  of  the  underlying  iron  in  his  na- 
ture. His  habit  of  success  had  given  him  an  im- 
periousncss  of  intention  and  expectation.  He 
would  not  contemplate  adverse  circumstance  ;  he 
would  not  tolerate  opposing  will.  He  was  at  no 
time  disposed  to  subject  his  thoughts  and  feelings 
to  scrutiny.  He  did  not  reason  on  the  matter  in 
hand.  It  was  not  his  intention  to  break  his  sis- 
ter's spirit ;  he  was  simply  displeased,  and  it  was 


116  FELICIA. 

his  instinct  to  sweep  out  of  existence  whatever  dis- 
pleased him. 

This  silent,  bitter  antagonism  was  an  unfortu- 
nate course  to  pursue  with  Felicia.  In  many  re- 
spects she  and  her  brother  were  alike :  in  her 
nature,  too,  there  was  hard  metal ;  she,  too,  was 
intolerant  and  imperious.  When  she  first  became 
aware  of  that  inexplicable  antagonism,  pervading 
the  moral  atmosphere  like  an  impending  thunder- 
storm, she  made  some  effort  to  place  affairs  on  a 
less  sombre  footing.  Her  attempts  at  conversa- 
tion and  vivacity  were  met  with  anxious  uncer- 
tainty on  Sophie's  part,  and  a  cold  unresponsive- 
ness  from  her  brother.  Disconcerted  and  abashed, 
she  fell  again  into  her  absorbed  musings,  with  the 
changed  manner  of  her  companions  for  a  new 
theme.  Under  these  circumstances  traveling 
was  not  unalloyed  pleasure.  She  would  have 
given  up  the  trip  and  returned  home,  but  that  she 
had  received  a  letter  from  her  father  to  the  effect 
that  the  house  was  shut  up  ;  that  he  was  off  on 
the  circuit,  and  expected  to  have  no  vacation  un- 
til the  early  part  of  September,  when  he  would 
meet  the  party  in  New  York,  and  take  her  home 
with  him.  Obviously  no  radical  change  was  pos- 
sible, but  a  new  element  of  feeling  was  unexpect- 
edly infused  into  the  situation. 

During  the  early  portion  of  the  journey  she 
saw  but  little  of  her  brother.  In  the  cities  they 
visited  he  had  his  own  engagements.  While  in 
transit  he  occupied  himself  in  playing  with  the 


FELICIA.  117 

baby  or  reading  the  newspapers,  or  he  was  ab- 
sorbed with  a  note-book  and  pencil  and  abstruse 
calculations.  One  day,  however,  when  he  chanced 
to  be  seated  beside  her,  she  broke  a  long  silence 
by  saying,  with  a  sigh,  that  she  supposed  they 
would  receive  no  more  letters  until  they  should 
again  become  stationary  for  a  time. 

He  looked  at  her  quickly,  keenly,  suspiciously, 
She  did  not  understand  it,  —  she  did  not  under- 
stand him,  —  and  she  spoke  on  the  impulse  of  the 
moment. 

"  Are  you  displeased  with  me  ?  "  she  asked, 
suddenly. 

"  Why  should  I  be  displeased  with  you,  Feli- 
cia? "  he  demanded,  curtly.  He  was  rising  as  he 
spoke ;  he  had  taken  out  a  cigar ;  in  his  other 
hand  he  had  a  match.  He  looked  down  at  her, 
and  his  face  held  so  tyrannical  an  expression  — 
an  expression  at  once  angry,  cold,  and  overbear- 
ing —  that  the  smouldering  fire  of  her  pride  kin- 
dled in  an  instant. 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  she  retorted,  with 
spirit.  Their  eyes  met.  Perhaps  there  came  to 
him  at  this  moment  some  belated  inspiration  of 
policy,  for,  after  a  second  of  hesitation,  he  turned 
on  his  heel  and  made  his  way  into  the  smoking- 
car. 

Felicia's  pride,  once  ablaze,  did  not  again 
smoulder.  The  infusion  of  animation  into  her 
manner  was  genuine  enough,  after  this,  but  it 
was  not  the  light-hearted  joyousness  of  old.  She 


118  FELICIA. 

was  on  the  alert  at  last,  on  the  defensive ;  she 
was  even  ready  to  engage  the  skulking  antago- 
nisms. Nothing  was  expressed ;  nothing  was  so 
tangible  that  explanations  were  in  order ;  her  re- 
sentment only  shone  in  her  eyes,  vibrated  in  the 
ring  of  her  voice,  curved  with  her  upper  lip, 
which  had  drooped  lately  and  given  her  a  certain 
pathos  to  enhance  the  pallor  of  her  face.  She 
was  not  always  pale  now  ;  she  flushed  easily  and 
brilliantly  ;  she  carried  herself  proudly ;  she  be- 
came somewhat  addicted  to  sarcasm.  Hamilton 
interpreted  all  this,  perhaps  correctly  enough,  as 
defiance.  "  Did  n't  I  tell  you,  Sophie,"  he  said 
to  his  wife,  discussing  with  her  one  of  these  mani- 
festations, "  that  we  were  going  to  have  a  devil  of 
a  time  with  Felicia?  I  suppose  you  see  how  re- 
bellious she  is?" 

"  Perhaps,  dear,  if  you  were  a  little  more  gen- 
tle with  her  "  —  suggested  Mrs.  Hamilton,  meekly. 

"  Gentle  !  Blaukity  blank !  "  exclaimed  John 
Hamilton,  hotly.  The  good  lady  cowered  when- 
ever he  fell  into  expletive. 

It  would,  perhaps,  have  been  lucky  for  the  ter- 
mination of  this  affair,  looked  at  from  his  own 
standpoint,  if  Hamilton  had  married  a  terma- 
gant instead  of  his  acquiescent  Sophie.  It  is 
well  enough  for  a  man  to  be  afraid  of  no  man  ; 
it  is  not  a  bad  thing  for  him  to  be  afraid  —  in 
reason  —  of  some  woman.  John  Hamilton  was 
afraid  of  nobody,  least  of  all,  of  Felicia.  He 
met  her  tacit  defiance  with  tacit  counter-defiance. 


FELICIA.  119 

He  did  not  dream  how  unhappy  she  was ;  per- 
haps he  would  not  have  altered  his  course  if  he 
had  realized  it,  so  incapable  of  concession  was  his 
nature.  She  was  too  intense,  too  untamed,  too 
young,  to  accept  wretchedness  save  with  passion- 
ate protest.  Sometimes,  after  a  day  made  up  of 
the  weary  daze  of  shopping  and  sight-seeing,  or 
the  laborious  idleness  of  watering-place  life,  when 
shut  at  last  into  her  own  room,  she  would  sob  for 
hours  in  the  light  of  the  summer  moon  or  the 
white  stars. 

Underlying  the  pained  bewilderment  and  indig- 
nation induced  by  the  latent  domestic  discord  was 
the  complication  of  emotions  caused  by  Hugh 
Kennett's  inexplicable  silence.  Often  she  said  to 
herself  she  would  be  reasonable  about  this  matter. 
Did  she  not  know  him  well  enough,  she  asked 
herself,  to  decide  if  it  were  consonant  with  his 
character  to  inflict  a  slight  upon  any  human  be- 
ing ?  He  was  very  tender-hearted,  —  she  had 
often  noticed  that ;  he  was  almost  weak  in  that 
respect ;  it  was  a  little  absurd  to  be  so  ultra-care- 
ful of  the  feelings  of  other  people  ;  and  would  he, 
who  would  not  wound  Fred,  who  spoke  with  con- 
sideration to  the  servants,  to  the  very  beggars  on 
the  street,  put  an  affront  upon  any  one,  —  upon 
her  f  For  a  time  this  train  of  thought  would  com- 
fort her ;  but  when  again  alone,  the  reverse  side 
of  the  question  would  present  itself.  He  would 
not  put  a  slight  upon  her,  —  of  course  he  would 
not ;  but  her  note  was  a  matter  of  such  little 


120  FELICIA. 

moment  to  him  that  he  could  not  imagine  it  was 
important  to  her.  He  had  forgotten  her  note,  — 
that  was  all.  Her  ingenuity  in  self-torture  was 
as  uncharacteristic  as  her  self-depreciation.  As 
to  what  she  had  fancied  he  was  about  to  say  that 
last  day,  —  she  had  been  misled  by  her  vanity. 
This  reflection  made  her  humble  enough.  In  an 
evil  moment  an  elaboration  of  this  theory  oc- 
curred to  her.  Perhaps  he,  too,  had  reviewed 
those  words  of  his,  which  seemed  to  hold  a  mo- 
mentous meaning,  a  meaning  he  did  not  intend  ; 
and  if  that  were  the  case,  what  of  encouragement 
did  her  note  imply?  Did  it  seem  to  lure  him 
further  when  he  had  said  nothing,  —  when  he  had 
nothing  to  say?  And  his  silence:  was  he  silent 
in  scorn,  divining  her  misinterpretation ;  in  mercy, 
that  she  might  have  no  opportunity  to  commit 
herself  further?  So  warped  was  her  judgment, 
so  morbid  had  she  grown,  that  this  wild  theory 
came  to  be  an  actual  fact  to  her  mind,  and  all 
the  pangs  that  had  gone  before  were  as  nothing 
to  the  poignant  anguish  of  her  writhing  pride. 

Toward  the  end  of  August,  John  Hamilton's 
party  found  themselves  for  a  few  days  in  Phila- 
delphia. 'One  warm  afternoon,  the  choice  was 
presented  to  Felicia  to  go  with  Sophie  to  select 
lace  curtains,  or  with  Fred  to  the  Academy  of  Sci- 
ences. She  yielded  to  her  nephew's  ardent  insist- 
ence, thinking  that  it  would  be  cool  in  the  Acad- 
emy building,  and  she  need  not  talk ;  it  was  not 
even  necessary  to  go  through  the  form  of  reply- 
ing to  Fred. 


FELICIA.  121 

The  building  was  lonely.  In  all  the  half  mil- 
lion —  plus  —  of  inhabitants  in  the  city  there 
seemed  to  be  nobody  but  themselves  disposed  to- 
ward science.  The  big  halls  responded  with  hol- 
low echoes  to  the  sound  of  their  steps.  Fred's 
raptures,  when  they  reached  the  skeleton  of  the 
Megatherium,  were  difficult  to  control ;  he  met 
the  gigantic  bones  as  if  he  had  found  a  long-lost 
brother.  Felicia,  tired  of  his  noisy  comments 
and  his  monotonous  accent,  as  he  laboriously  read 
the  valuable  paragraphs  devoted  by  the  catalogue 
to  the  admired  object,  strolled  away.  As  she 
stood  at  some  distance,  looking  absently  about 
her,  she  was  surprised  to  hear  her  own  name. 
She  turned  her  head  quickly.  A  gentleman  was 
standing  near  her,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  a  smile  of 
greeting  on  his  lips. 


VII. 

ABSORBED  in  her  own  reflections,  she  had  not 
noticed  an  approach,  and  Alfred  Grafton  was  now 
so  foreign  to  her  thoughts  that  for  an  instant  she 
had  a  trifle  of  difficulty  in  recognizing  him.  That 
supremacy  in  small  crises  conferred  by  her  train- 
ing came  to  her  aid,  and  the  hesitation  with  which 
she  extended  her  hand  was  not  perceptible.  He 
stood  in  a  bar  of  sunshine  that  lighted  him.  up 
with  unwonted  effectiveness ;  his  dark  hazel  eyes 
had  yellow  gleams  in  them  ;  he  was  smiling  ;  for 
once  his  face  had  an  entirely  simple  expression, 
—  the  expression  of  unaffected  pleasure  ;  the  sum- 
mer suit  he  wore  was  becoming ;  he  looked  very 
well. 

After  a  few  conventional  inquiries  as  to  the 
health  of  the  family,  "  I  suppose,"  he  said,  with 
an  indefinite  wave  of  his  hand  at  the  materialized 
learning  in  the  cabinets  about  them,  "  you  find 
all  this  very  interesting  ?  " 

"  The  bones  ?  No,  to  be  quite  candid,  I  don't 
enjoy  them  ;  I  don't  care  anything  about  them." 

His  momentary  geniality  had  already  disap- 
peared. He  replied  with  an  intonation  of  objec- 
tion, —  not  strong  enough  to  be  resented  as  a 
rebuke,  but  which  irritated  by  its  suggestion  that 


FELICIA.  123 

he  esteemed  his  own  views  the  exactly  appropri- 
ate sentiments. 

"  I  should  think  a  lady  of  your  intellect  might 
find  much  to  instruct  and  entertain  her  here." 

"  I  am  not  a  lady  of  intellect,"  returned  Feli- 
cia, perversely.  "  I  am  a  very  frivolous  person. 
I  can  entertain  myself,  and  I  don't  want  to  be 
instructed." 

They  were  walking  together  down  the  long  hall. 
She  swung  her  parasol  lightly,  and  glanced  about 
her  indifferently.  Grafton  may  have  been 
vaguely  conscious  of  her  strong  subcurrent  of 
painful  emotion,  and,  aware  that  his  words  were 
in  some  way  repugnant  to  her,  have  yielded  to  an 
infrequent  impulse  of  magnanimity ;  he  may  have 
been  only  desirous  to  propitiate  her.  At  any  rate, 
he  made  the  one  approach  to  an  apology  of  which 
his  record  can  boast. 

"  I  hope  I  did  n't  offend  you,"  he  said,  almost 
with  deprecation. 

"Oh,  dear,  no,"  declared  Felicia,  heartlessly. 
"  I  did  n't  care." 

He  could  not  complain  now  that  her  suavity 
was  too  pronounced  for  sincerity.  The  tone  in 
which  she  said  this  was  hardly  civil,  but  for  a 
certain  tense  vibration  which,  notwithstanding  his 
stilted  code  and  contracted  horizon,  he  had  suffi- 
cient discernment  to  interpret  as  the  manifesta- 
tion of  acute  mental  disquiet.  He  turned  his 
bright,  deep-set  eyes  upon  her,  as  they  walked  on, 
side  by  side.  Her  face  had  lost  somewhat  in 


124  FELICIA. 

color,  in  roundness  of  line,  in  animation ;  it  had 
acquired  something  he  did  not  understand,  — 
something  not  joyous,  but  replete  with  meaning ; 
it  seemed  to  him  to  have  become  susceptible  of 
taking  on  subtle  and  complex  expressions.  As 
the  momentary  irritation  faded,  there  came  in  its 
stead  a  certain  dignity,  and  that  ethereal  look 
which  much  thought  or  much  feeling  can  confer. 
Added  to  the  fascination  of  her  smile  which  he 
had  known  —  she  glanced  at  him  and  smiled 
presently,  as  if  in  reparation,  and  her  voice  had 
gentle  intonations  —  was  a  new  fascination  which 
he  could  not  analyze. 

He  was  cordially  welcomed  by  both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  when  he  appeared  at  the  hotel 
that  evening.  They,  as  well  as  Felicia,  had  found 
their  method  of  pleasuring  rather  dismal.  "  To 
go  about  among  strangers  all  the  time  is  poor 
enjoyment,  no  matter  how  many  new  things  one 
buys,"  declared  Mrs.  Hamilton.  He  was  a  some- 
what cool  subject  for  Hamilton's  camaraderie, 
but  was,  as  that  gentleman  remarked,  "  a  con- 
founded sight  better  than  nobody."  The  young 
man  hung  about  them  while  they  remained  in  Phil- 
adelphia, and  a  few  days  after  they  reached  the 
seaside  he  joined  them.  He  explained,  with  some 
embarrassment,  that  he  was  awaiting  the  arrival 
of  his  mother,  who  expected  to  place  his  sister  at 
boarding-school  in  New  York,  and  would  return 
home  to  Chilounatti  with  him. 

What  attracted  him  was  soon  apparent  enough. 


FELICIA.  125 

He  made  no  attempt  at  subterfuge  after  that  si- 
mulacrum of  an  explanation  of  his  presence.  He 
was  constantly  at  Felicia's  side.  He  brought  her 
books  and  flowers.  He  arranged  sailing  expedi- 
tions. They  often  rode  down  the  avenues,  kalei- 
doscopic with  the  pageantry  of  vehicles  and  eques- 
trians that  defiled  between  the  palpitating  sea  and 
the  long  line  of  big  hotels,  with  their  fluttering 
flags,  and  clanging  bands,  and  flower-like  groups 
of  women  and  children  bedecking  the  piazzas. 
She  wondered  at  his  persistence.  She  had  not 
intentionally  given  him  reason  to  persist.  When, 
however,  a  man  interprets  himself  as  the  expres- 
sion of  his  highest  ideal,  the  translation  acquires 
so  much  dignity  that  it  is  not  very  difficult  for  him 
to  believe  his  version  is  accepted  by  others.  Feli- 
cia found  it  less  annoying  to  maintain  a  state  of 
seeming  acquiescence  than  to  give  herself  the  lux- 
ury of  indulging  her  irritability.  To  make  sar- 
castic speeches  to  him  involved  the  necessity  of 
reparation,  retraction ;  and  this  sort  of  tact  re- 
quired rapid  and  fatiguing  thought.  After  some 
experimenting,  she  discovered  that  it  was  not  im- 
possible to  induce  him  to  talk  much  on  subjects 
that  interested  him.  He  was  a  man  of  taste,  to  a 
certain  degree,  and  would  not  intentionally  have 
indulged  in  monologue  ;  but  she  was  adroit,  and 
so  managed  that  he  was  not  consciously  egotistic. 
She  found,  too,  that  she  could  give  him  a  modicum 
of  attention,  enough  to  apprehend  his  talk,  —  the 
surface  of  her  mind,  so  to  speak,  while  along  the 


126  FELICIA. 

deeper  current  swept  her  own  absorbing  reflec- 
tions. How  was  he  to  suspect  this  dual  process  ? 
Her  violet  eyes  would  rest  softly  on  his  face ;  her 
lips  would  part  now  and  then  with  her  enchant- 
ing smile  ;  she  would  occasionally  utter  some  per- 
tinent comment,  or  a  judicious  word  of  acquies- 
cence or  dissent ;  and  he  was  satisfied.  He  told 
stories  of  his  college  days,  —  generally  stories  of 
intellectual  triumph ;  for  he  had  been  a  shining 
light,  and  was  proud  of  his  record.  There  were 
even  a  few  animated  contes  of  "rushes"  and  haz- 
ing ;  but  he  evidently  looked  on  this  as  youthful 
frivolity,  and  unworthy,  from  his  present  plane  of 
development.  Sometimes  he  chose  deeper  themes, 
and  instructed  her  on  subjects  of  national  and 
scientific  importance ;  and  then  Felicia  found  it 
necessary  to  rouse  herself  from  her  mental  trance, 
and  lure  him  from  what  she  might  have  termed 
"  Pliny  "  to  his  own  immediate  personal  interests. 
This  pleased  him,  as  it  might  have  pleased  a  wiser 
man. 

Strangers  looked  on  as  at  the  presentation  of  a 
romance.  The  two  were  the  noticeable  couple  of 
the  place,  that  summer :  she  with  her  delicate  yet 
brilliant  beauty ;  he  with  his  cold,  narrow,  intelli- 
gent face,  his  clear  eyes,  his  formal  manner,  his 
evident  devotion.  After  all,  this  world  is  very 
sentimental.  It  was  a  presidential  election  year ; 
there  was  a  war  in  Europe ;  the  races  were  in 
progress:  but  during  the  stay  of  the  Hamilton 
party,  all  other  themes  yielded  in  interest  to  the 
love-affair. 


FELICIA.  127 

John  Hamilton  was  puzzled.  "  Is  she  in  ear- 
nest, or  jnst  giving  Grafton  a  chance  to  make  an 
idiot  of  himself?  "  he  asked  his  wife.  There  was 
complacence  in  his  face  and  in  his  heart,  though 
he  tried  to  moderate  it.  "  That  girl  looks  well  in 
a  boat,  and  well  when  she  dances,  and  well  when 
she  drives,  and  well  on  a  horse.  I  taught  her  my- 
self to  ride,  and  I  'm  proud  of  the  job.  She  was 
always  a  plucky  little  thing  from  the  first  time  I 
tossed  her  in  a  saddle,  the  day  she  was  four  years 
old.  When  they  started,  just  now,  her  horse 
shied,  and  Grafton's  heart  was  in  his  mouth,  but 
she,  —  she  was  as  calm  as  a  May  morning.  Graf- 
ton  is  not  a  bad  match,  and  he  's  a  right  good 
fellow,  too.  Maybe  we  were  mistaken  about  the 
other  affair,  Sophie." 

"  I  dare  say  we  were,"  said  Sophie,  hopefully. 
Her  conscience  was  all  right.  She  believed  ex- 
actly what  her  husband  wished  to  believe. 

"  She  is  rather  sharp  to  Grafton,  now  and 
then,"  continued  Hamilton,  meditatively,  —  "  sar- 
castic and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Sometimes  a  girl  treats  a  man  that  way  when 
she  likes  him,"  said  wise  Mrs.  Sophie. 

He  turned  this  over  in  his  mind  a  moment,  as 
he  sat  tilted  back  in  his  chair  and  pulled  his  long 
yellow  mustache  ;  his  straw  hat,  pushed  far  back, 
revealed  his  bald  head,  and  his  blue  eyes  were 
fixed  on  that  section  of  the  big  blue  sea  where  a 
shadowy  white  sail  defined  itself  daintily  against 
the  soft  horizon. 


128  FELICIA. 

"  I  think  you  mean  when  she  is  sure  he  likes 
her"  quoth  John  Hamilton,  astutely.  He  was 
disposed  to  be  particularly  complaisant  to  Felicia 
now ;  but  his  incipient  benignity  received  a  sud- 
den check. 

On  the  evening  before  the  day  set  for  the  de- 
parture of  the  Hamilton  party,  the  two  young 
people  strolled  out  on  the  broad  deserted  piazza. 
The  salt  breeze  blew  crisp  and  fresh  from  the 
ocean  ;  the  band  was  playing,  —  the  rhythmic 
beat  of  a  waltz  fell  on  the  air ;  a  lane  of  molten 
gold  lay  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  was  lost 
in  vague  shadows  far  away ;  a  big,  red,  distorted 
moon  was  tilted  above  the  illimitable  palpitating 
waste. 

"  A  waning  moon  is  so  melancholy,"  said  Fe- 
licia, looking  at  it  with  wide,  soft  eyes  that  had 
grown  melancholy,  too.  "  I  wonder  why  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  that  it  is  melancholy,"  Grafton 
declared. 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  she  rejoined.  "  I  dare 
say  you  see  a  planet  which  suggests  to  you  apogee, 
or  perigee,  or  nodes,  or  something  wise.  I  see 
only  the  rising  moon,  and  it  seems  to  me  particu- 
larly ominous  to-night.  I  am  afraid.  Something 
unexpected  —  perhaps  something  terrible  —  is  go- 
ing to  happen." 

She  affected  to  shiver  with  fear ;  then,  as  the 
breeze  freshened,  she  shivered  a  little  in  reality, 
and  drew  about  her  head  the  fleecy  wrap  she  had 
brought  out  with  her.  He  rose  from  his  chair 


FELICIA.  129 

and  deftly  arranged  it.  "  That  will  do,"  she  said, 
shrinking  from  him.  He  thought  this  a  little 
shyness.  He  had  been  flattered,  as  he  often  was, 
by  her  allusion  to  his  superior  intellectual  gifts 
and  culture ;  he  could  not  discern  the  mockery. 
It  was  his  nature,  however,  even  in  satisfaction 
and  complacence,  to  lay  down  the  law,  to  dictate, 
to  assert  his  supremacy. 

"  You  seem  a  little  superstitious,"  he  suggested. 

"  Oh,  yes,  very,"  replied  Felicia,  as  if  admit- 
ting something  creditable. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said  with  the  precision  of 
intonation,  indicative  of  displeasure,  which  she 
especially  disliked,  — "  pardon  me  if  I  do  not 
accept  that  assurance.  No  well-regulated  mind 
is  capable  of  such  weakness  as  superstition." 

"  I  have  told  you  before  that  I  have  n't  a  well- 
regulated  mind,"  replied  Felicia  composedly. 
"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  rather  goosey  in  my 
mind." 

He  deemed  this  tone  inexcusably  frivolous. 
But  then  she  was  so  pretty,  —  so  pretty,  as  she 
sat  in  a  peculiarly  graceful  attitude,  thrown  back 
at  her  ease,  one  arm  hanging  over  the  side  of  the 
cane  chair,  the  other  hand  holding  the  white  wrap 
about  her  throat,  the  outlines  of  her  rounded  yet 
slight  figure,  in  its  dress  of  some  soft  white  woolen 
fabric,  definite  against  the  shadows.  He  had 
never  seen  her  so  unconsti-ained ;  their  interview 
seemed  all  at  once  peculiarly  informal.  He  had 
supposed  that  he  particularly  approved  of  a  cer- 


130  FELICIA. 

tain  ceremoniousness  in  her  manner,  a  matter  of 
attitude,  of  gesture,  of  intonation,  indefinable  yet 
definite,  like  the  perfume  of  a  flower ;  now  he  had 
a  swift  realization  how  potent  must  be  her  charm 
in  the  untrammeled  ease  of  home-life.  This  sud- 
den sense  of  closeness  quickened  his  pulse,  but  he 
did  not  lose  his  head.  Alfred  Grafton  in  love  was 
still  —  Alfred  Grafton. 

"  You  do  yourself  injustice,"  he  said.  "  I  am 
sure  you  have  a  very  well-regulated  mind.  Other- 
wise I  could  not  feel  toward  you  as  I  do." 

She  roused  herself  from  her  easy  attitude,  and 
turned  her  eyes  upon  him.  He  was  perfectly 
self-possessed  and  confident,  even  expectant.  She 
was  sitting  upright  now ;  she  opened  her  fan  ;  she 
looked  back  at  the  moon.  The  delightful  vague 
sense  of  familiarity  with  which  the  previous  mo- 
ment had  been  filled  had  suddenly  vanished. 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  pretend  that  I  don't 
understand  what  you  mean,"  she  said  with  cold- 
ness. 

"  It  is  better  to  be  perfectly  frank,"  he  re- 
joined, with  his  air  of  laying  down  valuable  moral 
axioms. 

"  Well,  then,  frankly,"  returned  Felicia,  "  I  do 
know  what  you  mean,  and  I  think  you  had  better 
say  no  more  about  it." 

There  was  dead  silence.  When  she  glanced  at 
him,  she  was  startled  by  the  change  in  his  face. 
All  this  time,  absorbed  in  her  own  suffering,  she 
had  taken  no  thought  of  his  capacity  for  suffering. 


FELICIA.  131 

"  Do  you  understand  "  —  he  uttered  the  words 
slowly  —  "  that  I  ask  you  to  marry  me  ?  You 
have  long  known  that  I  love  you." 

There  was  another  silence. 

"  It  can  never  be,"  said  Felicia. 

As  she  again  met  his  eyes,  she  saw  that  he  was 
not  only  bitterly  wounded,  but  very  angry.  She 
was  surprised  to  find  how  deprecatory  she  felt. 
At  his  first  word  of  blame,  however,  her  self-re- 
proach vanished. 

"  If  your  own  conscience  does  not  accuse  you," 
he  said,  —  his  face  was  white,  and  set,  and  stern ; 
he  articulated  with  difficulty,  —  "I  need  urge 
nothing." 

"  Accuse  me  ?  Of  what  ?  "  she  demanded  in 
a  voice  that  trembled  a  little. 

"  Of  trifling  with  me.  In  courtesy,  I  will  not 
say  willfully  deceiving  me,  but  I  did  not  expect 
this  answer." 

"  You  do  me  great  injustice ! "  cried  Felicia. 
"  I  have  accepted  your  attention  as  I  would  that 
of  any  other  friend,  especially  if  thrown  together 
in  this  way,  —  so  far  from  home.  I  did  not  think 
of  anything  like  —  like  this,  till  to-night.  I  had 
other  things  to  —  to  think  of.  Whatever  I  have 
done,  I  have  not  encouraged  you  !  " 

"  You  have  encouraged  some  one,  then  ? "  he 
said  quickly. 

She  looked  at  him  angrily,  but  checked  the 
reply  on  her  lips,  and  turned  her  eyes  again  to 
the  quivering,  shining  sea. 


132  FELICIA. 

"  Pardon  me  ;  I  have  no  right  to  ask,"  he  re- 
sumed, with  sarcastic  humility.  "  I  have  no  right 
to  do  anything  but  endure,  when  a  woman  lets  me 
dangle  around  her  for  weeks,  and  then  calmly 
tells  me  that  she  did  not  imagine  anything  like 
this.  I  supposed  my  meaning  was  distinct  enough. 
I  think  it  probable  that  most  people  have  appre- 
hended it." 

Felicia  made  a  mistake. 

"  And  if  I  had  understood,"  she  cried,  "  how 
could  I  have  altered  matters?  I  cannot  be  ex- 
pected to  refuse  a  man  before  he  has  offered  him- 
self." 

"  A  sophism  is  ample  justification  for  a  social 
triumph,  such  as  it  is,"  he  said  sarcastically. 
"  To  my  mind  it  is  a  poor  enough  triumph,  but 
no  doubt  a  young  lady  estimates  such  matters  dif- 
ferently." 

"  I  did  not  think  of  it  in  that  way,"  she  de- 
clared. 

There  was  another  long  silence.  All  at  once 
she  looked  at  him  with  an  almost  piteous  appeal 
in  her  face  ;  tears  stood  in  her  eyes  ;  a  tremulous 
smile  was  on  her  lips. 

"  Don't  let  us  quarrel,"  she  said  coaxingly. 
"  Let  us  be  friends  again." 

Even  Alfred  Grafton  was  not  proof  against 
that  look.  He  faltered ;  he  was  mollified ;  he 
took  her  soft  little  hand  and  held  it  closely.  But 
he  was  not  the  man  to  be  cajoled  into  accepting 
half  a  loaf  for  a  whole  one. 


FELICIA.  133 

"  You  and  I  cannot  be  '  friends,'  "  he  replied. 
"  It  is  everything  or  nothing.  Now  let  us  look 
at  this  matter  calmly.  I  love  you  dearly.  I  can 
safely  promise  to  make  you  happy.  Our  tastes 
are  similar  ;  my  people  would  be  very  fond  of 
you  ;  I  think  your  brother  would  not  object." 

"  And  I  should  not  care  if  he  did  object !  " 
cried  Felicia  fierily,  suddenly  drawing  away  her 
hand.  "  He  is  welcome  to  object  as  much  as  he 
chooses.  He  shall  not  interfere  with  my  affairs." 

Grafton  looked  hard  at  her.  Her  tears  had 
risen  again,  but  they  were  angry  tears.  She 
brushed  them  away  with  an  impatient  gesture; 
he  saw  them  glisten,  in  the  moonlight,  on  her 
filmy  handkerchief.  His  white  heat  of  rage  had 
returned.  "  I  see,"  he  said  slowly,  "  there  is 
some  one  else." 

Felicia  rose.  "  It  is  growing  cold,"  she  de- 
clared. "  I  must  go  in."  They  walked  down 
the  piazza  toward  the  parlor.  He  stopped  her 
before  they  reached  the  open  door,  and  looked 
down  into  her  uplifted  eyes. 

"'I  shall  never  forgive  you,"  he  said  deliber- 
ately. "  I  shall  always  believe  you  did  it  inten- 
tionally." 

"  You  will  think  better  of  that  some  day,"  re- 
plied Felicia,  appalled  by  the  strength  of  a  feel- 
ing that  had  seemed  to  her  a  slight  thing,  that 
had  hardly  sufficiently  attracted  her  notice  to 
secure  intelligent  contemplation. 

"  I  shall  never  forgive  you,"  he  repeated. 


134  FELICIA. 

Late  that  night,  John  Hamilton,  coming  from 
the  billiard-room  where  he  had  been  enjoying  the 
unwonted  luxury  of  a  game  with  an  old  friend,  — 
a  man  like  himself  adrift  in  this  sea  of  strangers, 
who  almost  wept  for  joy  at  sight  of  that  familiar 
roseate  face  and  rotund  figure,  —  late  that  night, 
Hamilton,  coming  thus  from  the  billiard-room, 
flushed  with  success,  perfumed  with  sherry  cobbler 
and  cigar  smoke,  suddenly  met  Alfred  Grafton. 
The  younger  gentleman  was  evidently  ready  for 
a  journey.  He  was  wearing  his  traveling  gear ; 
his  name  was  conspicuous  on  a  trunk  among  other 
luggage  awaiting  the  baggage -wagon.  A  bell- 
boy preceded  him  with  a  satchel.  He  looked  an- 
noyed at  sight  of  his  friend,  but  faced  the  situ- 
ation with  composure. 

"Hello!  Where  are  you  going,  Grafton?" 
inquired  Hamilton,  with  round  eyes. 

"  To  Philadelphia,"  replied  Grafton. 

John  Hamilton  reflected  rapidly. 

"  Anything  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked  tersely. 

Grafton,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  shared  our 
common  human  weakness.  He  craved  sympathy 
with  the  eager  craving  of  less  gifted  mortals.  He 
realized,  too,  that  there  was  no  use  in  attempting 
subterfuges  with  Hamilton,  who  would  no  doubt 
soon  be  perfectly  well  aware,  without  explanation, 
of  the  state  of  the  case. 

"  The  matter  !  "  he  repeated  bitterly.  "  She 
has  thrown  me  over,  —  that 's  all." 

"  The  devil  she  did  !  "  exclaimed  the  brother, 
with  lively  sympathy. 


FELICIA.  135 

"  Did  n't  suspect  my  feelings  —  hopes  we  shall 
be  friends  —  all  very  proper  and  pretty,"  re- 
turned Grafton  sardonically.  "  I  ventured  to 
suggest,  by  way  of  inducement,  which  my  case 
seemed  to  need,  that  my  people  would  be  de- 
lighted, and  that  I  thought  you  would  not  object. 
She  said,  very  angrily,  that  she  did  not  care  if 
you  did  object.  I  fancy  there  is  some  man  to 
whom  you  do  object.  Stop  !  "  he  cried,  as  Ham- 
ilton was  about  to  speak  excitedly.  "  I  have  no 
right  to  know.  I  have  no  right  to  revert  to  that, 
—  it  is  none  of  my  affair.  My  affair  is  over- 
board, and  I  have  no  more  to  say  or  hear  on  the 
subject." 

When  John  Hamilton  repaired  to  his  own 
apartment,  it  was  all  his  wife  could  do  to  prevent 
his  arousing  Felicia  from  her  bed,  in  the  small 
hours,  to  give  her  what  he  termed  a  "  solid  talk." 
It  was  owing,  too,  to  Sophie  that  this  was  warded 
off  the  following  day,  on  their  railway  trip  to 
New  York.  She  made  pretext  after  pretext  to 
detain  him  by  her  side ;  whenever  she  saw  him 
look  with  a  scowling  intention  across  the  car  to 
where  Felicia  and  Fred  sat  together,  she  evolved 
some  immediate  and  absorbing  subject  of  interest. 
Here  was  a  letter  about  which  she  had  spoken  to 
him,  —  or  indeed  had  she  remembered  to  mention 
it  ?  —  from  the  carpet  -  manufactory  people ;  he 
must  read  it,  and  help  her  decide.  And  again, 
oh,  had  he  seen  the  baby  kiss  her  hand  ?  She 
did  it  this  morning.  "  Kiss  your  hand,  darling, 
to  papa." 


136  FELICIA. 

These  tactics  were  kept  up  after  taking  the 
boat.  He  escaped,  however,  just  before  reaching 
New  York,  and  joined  Felicia,  as  she  stood  with 
her  eyes  fixed  on  the  vast  spectacle  of  the  great 
city,  its  innumerable  spires  glittering  in  the  sun- 
shine, its  hovering  smoke  a  shadow  in  the  dis- 
tance against  the  intense  blue  of  the  sky,  its  forest 
of  shipping  also  only  a  dainty  shadow.  The 
breeze  swept  over  the  intervenient  spaces  of  the 
sea,  and  brought  briny  odors  ;  it  flushed  Felicia's 
cheeks,  and  blew  backward  the  draperies  of  her 
trim  traveling  dress,  and  waved  the  brown  feather 
in  the  jaunty  hat  that  surmounted  her  brown  hair. 
She  glanced  up  as  her  brother  placed  himself  be- 
side her.  He  had  pushed  his  hat  back,  and  an 
expanse  of  bald  forehead  was  aggressively  visible ; 
his  hands  were  in  his  trousers  pockets  ;  he  wore  a 
natty  suit  in  shaded  gray  checks,  which  was  very 
becoming  to  his  richly  tinted  face. 

"  What  did  you  do  to  Graf  ton,  Felicia  ?  "  he 
demanded  curtly. 

"  Has  he  a  black  eye  ?  I  suppose  I  must  have 
given  it  to  him." 

"  I  am  astonished  at  you,"  her  brother  con- 
tinued severely.  "  Leading  a  fellow  on  and  flirt- 
ing !  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were  such  a  flirt." 

As  a  matter  of  course  she  resented  this.  "  How 
dare  you  say  that  to  me  !  "  she  exclaimed,  her 
eyes  flashing,  her  cheeks  aflame. 

"  I  understand  how  all  this  comes  about,"  per- 
sisted the  misguided  brother ;  "  it  is  all  on  ac- 
count of  that  fellow  Kennett." 


FELICIA.  137 

"  You  shall  not  speak  of  him  to  me !  "  she  cried, 
turning  away. 

"  See  here,  young  lady,"  persisted  Hamilton, 
laying  his  hand  oil  her  shoulder,  "  father  is  going 
to  meet  us  in  New  York,  and  we  shall  see  what 
he  will  say  to  these  vagaries.  He  will  take  your 
case  in  hand." 

She  drew  herself  away,  and  walked  proudly  to 
the  other  end  of  the  boat.  These  unlucky  stric- 
tures completed  an  estrangement  already  suffi- 
ciently bitter.  She  felt  that  she  could  never  forgive 
him.  She  was  placed  before  the  beginning  of  a 
contest  with  her  father  in  the  mental  attitude  of 
resistance.  She  promised  herself  she  would  not 
be  cowed.  And  yet,  a  contest  about  what  ? 
About  her  acquaintance  with  a  man  whose  friend- 
ship she  could  hardly  claim,  who  had  forgotten 
her,  who  had  ignored  her  letter.  Her  heart  was 
bruised,  sore,  unendurably  heavy ;  she  had  much 
ado  to  refrain  from  tears,  —  from  crying  out  in 
her  pain,  humiliation,  and  despair,  —  as  they  dis- 
embarked, entered  a  carriage,  and  rolled  along 
the  interminable  streets  to  their  hotel. 

It  was  in  this  frame  of  mind  that  Felicia  came 
upon  the  turning-point  of  her  life. 

The  rooms  had  been  engaged  by  telegraph  some 
days  before.  As  she  entered  the  one  assigned 
her,  she  noticed  a  quantity  of  mail  matter  on  the 
bureau.  One  of  the  letters  was  directed  in  a 
handwriting  she  did  not  recognize.  The  envel- 
ope was  covered  with  addresses  :  it  had  been  sent 


138  FELICIA. 

first  to  her  own  home,  thence  to  her  brother's 
house  in  Chilounatti,  and  had  afterward  evidently 
followed  her  from  place  to  place.  Still  in  her 
hat  and  wraps,  she  sat  down  with  it  in  her  hand. 

Before  she  opened  it  she  divined  who  was  the 
writer.  She  attempted  to  collect  her  startled  fac- 
ulties. For  some  moments  she  remained  motion- 
less. Then  she  opened  and  read  the  letter.  It 
was  dated  six  weeks  before. 

Hugh  Kennett  began  by  explaining  that  he 
had  been  greatly  troubled  by  her  sudden  depar- 
ture ;  all  the  more  because  he  was  very  anxious  to 
say  to  her  what  he  had  attempted  to  say  the  af- 
ternoon before  she  left,  —  that  he  loved  her,  and 
desired  to  ask  her  to  be  his  wife.  He  feared  his 
effort  was  somewhat  premature,  in  view  of  their 
short  acquaintance,  but  he  would  be  only  too  happy 
to  submit  to  any  term  of  probation  she  might 
require.  He  would  ask  nothing  except  the  oppor- 
tunity to  make  himself  acceptable  to  her.  He 
hoped  for  a  reply  and  gave  an  address  in  Chilou- 
natti, as  well  as  in  New  York,  to  which  latter  city 
he  was  going  in  a  few  weeks.  He  added  that  he 
should  send  this  letter  to  her  home,  as  he  had  not 
been  able  to  obtain  her  present  address.  There 
was  little  of  protestation.  The  phrasing  was 
extremely  simple ;  it  was  almost  business-like. 
Felicia  thought  it  a  very  strong  and  manly  way 
to  write  a  love-letter  ;  she  fancied  she  detected  a 
ring  of  tense  feeling  in  the  few  terse  sentences  ; 
she  said  to  herself  that  it  was  perfectly  in  charac- 
ter, —  like  everything  he  did. 


FELICIA.  139 

With  the  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  an  ex- 
treme tranquillity  had  come  upon  her.  It  amazed 
her  now  that  she  had  not  divined  the  exact  state 
of  the  case  ;  that  she  had  not  had  more  patience, 
more  confidence,  more  strength.  She  took  her- 
self to  task  for  not  comprehending  him  better. 
The  memory  of  the  anguish  of  soul  induced  by 
those  weeks  of  domestic  discord  she  dismissed 
from  consideration  with  a  contemptuous  indiffer- 
ence, which  argued  ill  enough  for  the  influence, 
in  a  possible  contest,  of  the  natural  strong  ties  of 
kindred  and  association. 

"  Was  I  insane,"  she  demanded  of  herself, 
"  that  I  should  have  cared  an  instant  for  anything 
John  and  Sophie  could  do,  or  think,  or  say  ?  " 

Only  one  influence  prevailed  with  her  now. 
She  gave  herself  up  to  it ;  she  sank  into  a  vague, 
delicious  reverie.  She  recalled,  as  heretofore  she 
had  not  dared  to  do,  all  the  incidents  of  those 
happy  weeks  in  the  early  summer,  —  the  introduc- 
tion at  Robert's,  the  rowing  on  the  sunset-tinted 
river,  the  long  talks  in  the  quiet  moonlit  evenings, 
the  tones  of  his  voice,  the  look  in  his  eyes,  the 
words  he  had  spoken.  How  strange  that  she  re- 
membered them  so  well!  They  were  not  such 
wonderfully  wise  and  witty  words,  she  said  to  her- 
self, with  a  happy  laugh ;  she  knew  in  her  heart 
that  she  believed  them  to  be  both.  And  she  could 
write  to  him.  She  would  see  him  soon.  Possi- 
bly he  was  in  New  York,  somewhere  near  to  her, 
now.  In  a  few  days  —  it  might  be  a  few  hours 
—  and  then  —  and  then  — 


140  FELICIA. 

Sophie,  coming  to  her  door  after  a  time,  was 
greatly  surprised  to  see  her  still  sitting  motion- 
less in  her  traveling  attire  ;  but  she  sank  into 
a  chair,  and  waited  while  Felicia  hurriedly  re- 
arranged her  hair  and  changed  her  dress.  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  face  was  flushed  and  her  manner  dis- 
composed. 

"  Oh,  Felicia,  I  am  so  annoyed  ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  All  my  plans  are  in  confusion ;  and 
it  is  John's  fault.  You  know  the  Graftons  are 
here,  at  this  hotel." 

The  brush,  gliding  along  Felicia's  bronze 
tresses,  was  arrested ;  she  met  her  sister-in-law's 
eyes  in  the  mirror  with  an  inquiring  stare. 

"You  know,"  continued  the  speaker.  "Alfred 
was  to  meet  them  here,  but  —  but "  —  she  stum- 
bled —  "  but  for  some  reason  he  has  gone  to  Phil- 
adelphia, and  telegraphed  to  his  mother  to  join 
him  there  next  week.  Well,  Mrs.  Grafton  is  a 
good  deal  put  out,  naturally,  you  see." 

"  Really,  Sophie,"  said  Felicia  with  a  hard 
laugh,  "  you  have  a  large  contract  on  your  hands, 
if  you  undertake  to  become  responsible  for  all  of 
Alfred  Grafton's  movements,  perfect  as  he  is." 

"  Of  course  that 's  not  it.  But  while  she  was 
sitting  in  our  parlor  fretting  about  it,  Nellie,  her 
daughter,  happened  to  say  she  should  not  have 
cared  except  that  Alfred  had  promised  to  take 
her  to  some  operatic  rnatinee  this  afternoon.  She 
is  to  be  left  with  Madame  Sevier  on  Monday, 
and  she  seems  to  think  this  is  her  last  chance  to 
go  to  any  place  of  amusement." 


FELICIA.  141 

"She  will  see  more  opera  in  one  term  with 
Madame  Sevier  than  with  Alfred  Grafton  in  ten 
million  years,"  declared  Felicia,  hyperbolically. 
"  I  wonder  that  he  encouraged  the  frivolity  of  one 
matinee.  She  ought  to  be  reading  about  Cosmic 
Force." 

"  She  seems  to  think  Madame  Sevier's  is  a  sort 
of  nunnery.  And  John,  instead  of  leaving  well 
enough  alone,  sent  a  bell-boy  off  and  bought 
tickets,  and  said  she  should  n't  be  disappointed." 

"  Lucky  for  Miss  Nellie,"  remarked  Felicia, 
coolly.  "  I  don't  perceive  the  hitch." 

"  Why,  Felicia,  can't  you  understand  ?  /can't 
go  with  them.  I  must  see  West  and  Ware  about 
the  drawing-room  lambrequins  that  we  ordered 
when  we  were  here  before.  A  most  frightful 
mistake  has  been  made.  They  are  half  an  inch 
too  short.  I  have  just  received  a  note  about  it. 
Oh,  if  I  had  it  all  to  do  over,  I  would  buy  every 
solitary  thing  at  home.  Such  a  forlorn,  toilsome 
summer  I  have  had.  And  just  think  how  per- 
verse John  is !  As  soon  as  he  found  that  I 
could  n't  go  he  managed  to  call  me  into  the  other 
room,  and  swore  —  most  frightfully,  too  —  that 
he  would  n't  go  to  a  matinee  this  afternoon  to 
save  his  life.  Oh,  Felicia,  dear,  don't  you  think 
you  and  Fred  will  do  ?  Won't  it  be  appropriate 
enough  if  you  and  Fred  represent  the  family  ? 
I  must  see  about  my  lambrequins.  If  my  lambre- 
quins are  spoiled,  my  heart  will  break/'  She 
rose  from  her  chair  and  walked  precipitately 


142  FELICIA. 

about  the  room.  Domestic  tragedy  has  its  oppor- 
tunity. 

Felicia  was  disconcerted.  She  had  not  intended 
to  answer  the  letter  to-day,  but  she  wanted  to 
think  it  over,  to  get  used  to  it ;  it  was  so  sudden, 
so  momentous.  With  the  cessation  of  her  own 
anxieties,  however,  gentleness  and  tolerance  had 
come  to  her.  "  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity." 
That  sounds  well,  but  it  is  a  mistake.  We  are 
beneficent  when  we  are  lucky.  Felicia  sacri- 
ficed her  preference  with  a  generosity  possible 
only  to  the  happy. 

"Well,  well,  Sophie,"  she  said  with  a  sigh, 
"  I  will  take  charge  of  Mrs.  Grafton  and  her 
daughter,  and  I  '11  excuse  you  gracefully." 

Mrs.  Grafton  was  a  mouse.  To  be  sure,  a 
mouse  accustomed  only  to  the  best  houses,  to  vel- 
vet carpets,  to  fine  china  and  linen  and  glass,  to 
sweetbreads  and  cake  crumbs,  —  a  mouse  of  the 
first  quality,  but  still  and  always  a  mouse.  She 
was  swift,  daring,  timorous,  cringing,  bullying, 
indefinite,  by  turns  and  as  occasion  justified. 
You  never  knew  exactly  where  to  find  her,  —  like 
a  mouse,  —  yet  you  were  very  sure  she  would 
have  a  distinct  personality  when  you  did  en- 
counter her.  Sometimes  you  would  be  positive 
she  was  in  your  immediate  vicinity,  and  she  was 
as  far  from  you  in  effect  as  at  one  of  the  poles. 
When  you  lost  sight  of  her  and  well-nigh  forgot 
her  existence,  here  she  was,  —  again  just  like  a 
mouse,  —  startling  you  out  of  your  senses.  You 


FELICIA.  143 

were  always  absorbed  in  amazement  that  any- 
thing so  insignificant  could  be  so  aggravating. 
She  even  looked  like  a  mouse,  as  she  sat  on  a 
sofa,  in  a  dove-colored  dress  and  a  lace  cap  orna- 
mented with  dove-colored  ribbons ;  and  her  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  introduction  of  Felicia  was 
the  perfection  of  furtive  meekness.  There  was  in 
her  glance  something  as  well  of  analytic  scrutiny, 
and  this  in  her  daughter  —  an  awkward  girl,  at 
once  shy  and  forward  —  had  developed  into  down- 
right curiosity,  as  she  stared  at  Felicia  with  hard 
black  eyes.  Our  young  lady  had  a  sudden  rush 
of  indignation,  divining  that  the  son  of  the  house 
had  written  of  his  pretensions  much  as  if  they 
were  unfait  accompli.  She  controlled  her  irrita- 
tion, however,  and  entered  with  what  zest  she 
might  into  the  afternoon's  festivities,  making 
Sophie's  excuses  with  such  tact  that  the  two 
ladies  willingly  overlooked  the  informality  of  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  absence ;  and  after  lunch  the  party 
set  out,  with  Fred  as  escort. 

"  Fred  will  be  entirely  au  fait  by  the  time  he 
gets  home,"  remarked  Felicia.  "  He  learned  all 
about  natural  science  at  Philadelphia,  and  navi- 
gation at  the  seashore,  and  hunting  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks,  and  now  he  is  to  become  a  connoisseur  in 
music  and  acting." 

"I'd  a  big  sight  ruther  go  ter  the  dime  mu- 
seum," grumbled  Fred,  "  an'  see  the  tattooed  man 
an'  the  three-headed  lady." 

Felicia's  silvery  laughter  had  an  infectious  joy- 


144  FELICIA. 

ousness  it  had  not  known  for  many  a  day.  Mrs. 
Grafton  wondered,  however,  if  she  were  not  a  little 
flippant  for  Alfred,  who  was  so  difficult  to  please. 

"  It  is  always  well  to  learn,  Fred,"  observed  the 
old  lady,  meekly,  smoothing  one  gloved  hand  with 
the  other  ;  "  we  can  learn  something  almost  any- 
where/' 

"  So  I  tell  him,"  said  Felicia,  commanding  her 
countenance  with  an  effort,  at  the  sound  of  Fred's 
unintelligible  muttered  reply. 

That  afternoon,  contrary  to  her  anticipation, 
afforded  her  keen  delight.  She  had  expected  to 
be  bored  ;  she  was,  instead,  in  a  sort  of  exalta- 
tion. The  sudden  removal  of  trouble,  in  itself 
cause  for  happiness,  supplemented  more  tangible 
cause,  so  deep,  so  strong,  that  she  dared  not  dwell 
definitely  upon  it ;  she  only  felt  herself  vaguely, 
blissfully,  drifting  like  a  leaf  upon  the  current. 
The  large  assemblage  of  unknown,  unnumbered 
faces  strangely  exhilarated  her,  but  she  did  not, 
according  to  her  mental  habit,  disintegrate  the 
crowd.  Ordinarily,  she  knew  in  five  minutes  — 
or  thought  she  did  —  those  whom  she  was  wont  to 
call  "  interesting,"  those  who  were  mere  human 
animals,  those  who  had  been  lifted  from  that  plane 
by  some  drama  of  their  circumstances.  The 
young  man  at  the  end  of  the  next  row,  she  would 
have  said,  would  be  a  commonplace  banker  or 
lawyer  but  for  some  daily  heart  tragedy,  —  a 
broken  ambition,  a  wretched  home.  And  there  is 
a  woman  with  a  face  like  sunshine,  —  one  feels 


FELICIA.  145 

sure  she  has  a  nature  to  match.  That  old  gentle- 
man has  little  capacity  save  for  the  exercise  of 
piling  cent  per  cent  on  brain  and  heart.  And 
there  is  another  old  gentleman,  sixty  in  years  and 
twenty-five  of  soul,  with  a  benignant  smile  and  a 
buttonhole  bouquet.  She  made  no  deductions 
now ;  she  saw  them  as  if  she  saw  them  not ;  she 
had  appropriate  words  and  smiles  for  her  compan- 
ions ;  in  her  deeper  consciousness  she  ignored 
their  existence.  She  looked  about  her  with 
dreamy,  brilliant,  happy  eyes ;  she  sat  very  still ; 
her  voice  was  soft ;  her  lips  wore  gentle  curves 
that  expressed  a  still  and  blissful  content. 

Mrs.  Grafton,  scanning  her  furtively,  admitted 
to  herself  that  Alfred's  choice  was  very  satisfac- 
tory, so  far  as  appearances  went.  Felicia  was 
pretty  and  distinguished  in  manner,  and  perfectly 
dressed ;  and  if  Madame  Sevier  had  taught  her 
those  attitudes  and  that  poise  of  head,  —  as  easily 
erect  as  a  flower  on  a  stem,  —  it  was  well  to  have 
selected  Sevier  Institute  for  Nellie,  who  would 
lounge  and  would  n't  hold  up  her  shoulders.  As 
for  Nellie,  she  gazed  at  Felicia  with  the  definite 
intention  of  discovering  the  charm  of  a  young 
lady  who  had  secured  the  ultimate  object,  in  her 
opinion,  of  a  woman's  creation,  —  a  lover.  Nel- 
lie's vanity  was  sufficiently  stalwart.  She  did  not 
comprehend  how  Felicia  managed  to  be  fascinat- 
ing, but  she  was  fully  persuaded  that  in,  time  she 
herself  would  discover  the  secret  and  use  it  as 
successfully. 


146  FELICIA. 

The  curtain  rose  after  a  little,  and  the  audience 
went  for  a  time  into  that  strange,  delightful  world 
where  destinies  round  themselves  in  an  hour  or 
two ;  where  trials  accent  triumphs ;  where  virtue 
is  lovely  and  prevails,  and  vice  is  odious  and  is 
defeated ;  where  retribution  and  reward  come  up 
smiling  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  life  is  dignified, 
picturesque,  consistent,  and  grand,  and  very  much 
more  worth  living,  ideally  speaking,  than  our 
poor  little  affair,  which  it  modestly  proposes  to 
portray. 

The  troupe  was  good,  but  not  preeminently 
excellent ;  the  music  was  well  within  the  powers 
of  the  singers ;  the  stage-setting,  costumes,  and 
the  chorus  were  admirable.  Felicia,  in  her  ab- 
sorption, was  vaguely  responsive  to  the  music, 
which  pervaded  her  consciousness  as  the  perfume 
of  violets  pervades  a  May  afternoon.  Like  most 
clever  amateurs,  she  had  not  been  scientifically 
trained  ;  she  experienced  no  want  which  these 
melodious  numbers  could  not  satisfy ;  she  did  not 
partake  of  the  musician's  intellectual  and  some- 
what strenuous  enjoyment ;  she  merely  absorbed 
the  representation  with  more  or  less  vividness 
through  her  senses. 

As  the  building  was  greatly  crowded,  it  was 
some  little  time  before  they  made  their  way  out. 
Nellie,  who  between  the  acts  had  become  some- 
what well  acquainted  with  her  new  friend,  com- 
mented on  the  performance  with  her  own  inimita- 
ble admixture  of  forwardness  and  shyness. 


FELICIA.  147 

"  Oh,  my,  was  n't  it  lovely !  "  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  fidgety  giggle  of  delight  and  embarrass- 
ment, as  they  passed  out  upon  the  sidewalk,  al- 
ready dusky  with  deepening  twilight  and  en- 
veloped with  the  gloom  of  low  hanging  clouds. 
"  Oh,  was  n't  that  last  duet  too  beautiful !  And 
the  tenor,  —  oh,  Miss  Hamilton,  I  'm  dead  in  love 
with  that  tenor,  ain't  you  ?  " 

"  The  tenor  is  most  admirable,"  returned  Feli- 
cia, sedately,  not  entering  into  the  spirit  of  her 
prattle. 

As  she  said  this  Felicia  chanced  to  raise  her 
eyes.  They  encountered  those  of  a  gentleman 
who  was  standing  in  the  brilliant  radiance  of  the 
electric  light.  He  lifted  his  hat,  and  she  recog- 
nized Hugh  Kennett.  She  returned  his  saluta- 
tion. She  observed  that  his  face  was  very  grave. 
The  agitation  which  she  had  unconsciously  held 
in  abeyance  all  day  was  upon  her  with  such  inten- 
sity that  she  could  not  distinguish  if  it  were  plea- 
sure or  pain.  When  they  reached  the  hotel,  and 
her  companions  had  repaired  to  their  own  rooms, 
she  opened  the  door  of  the  private  parlor  her 
brother  had  taken.  It  was  empty.  She  entered, 
sank  into  a  chair,  and  attempted  to  rally  her 
self-control,  so  strangely  and  suddenly  vanished. 
Her  breath  was  coming  quick  through  her  half- 
parted  lips;  her  face  was  suffused  with  a  deep 
blush ;  she  removed  her  hat,  —  its  weight  was  all 
at  once  unendurably  oppressive  ;  she  fixed  her 
feverishly  bright  eyes  on  the  dark,  moonless,  star- 


148  FELICIA. 

less  sky.  As  she  thus  sat  motionless  in  the  centre 
of  the  lighted  room,  there  was  a  knock  upon  the 
door,  and  a  servant  entered  with  a  card.  She 
looked  at  it  in  silence  for  a  moment,  then  said, 
"  You  can  show  the  gentleman  in." 

When  Kennett  was  ushered  into  the  room,  she 
rose,  and  advanced  hesitatingly  a  few  steps.  She 
was  turning  the  card  nervously  in  her  fingers; 
the  gesture  was  in  marked  contrast  with  her  usual 
self-possessed  manner ;  her  face  betrayed  some  of 
the  agitation  which  she  sought  to  control. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  she  murmured. 

Kennett  took  her  hand.  "  That  gives  me  cour- 
age," he  said.  "  Did  you  receive  my  letter?" 

"  I  received  it  only  this  morning,"  she  replied. 

"  Only  this  morning  !  "  he  cried,  in  dismay. 

"  It  had  been  to  a  great  many  places,"  said 
Felicia.  "  It  had  been  following  us  for  weeks." 

He  was  at  once  infinitely  disappointed  and  re- 
lieved. "  I  could  not  believe  you  would  inten- 
tionally keep  me  in  suspense,"  he  declared. 

"  And  you  were  in  suspense,  too  !  "  cried  Feli- 
cia, impulsively,  with  a  sudden  delighted  realiza- 
tion of  the  fact. 

"Were  you?"  he  exclaimed,  quickly.  "Did 
you  want  to  hear  from  me,  to  see  me  again  ?  It 
is  asking  a  great  deal,  I  know,  Felicia,  but  won't 
you  give  me  an  answer  to  my  letter  now  ?  I  love 
you  with  all  my  soul.  I  have  undergone  the  tor- 
ments of  —  of  —  well  —  a  great  deal  of  unhappi- 
ness  since  I  saw  you.  Can't  you  —  don't  you 
care  for  me  ?  " 


FELICIA.  149 

He  was  still  holding  her  hand ;  she  fixed  her 
fast-filling  eyes  on  his  eyes ;  her  sensitive  lips 
were  quivering. 

"And  I  have  been  unhappy,"  she  said.  For 
all  her  tears,  which  presently  ceased  to  flow,  she 
felt  that  there  could,  in  the  nature  of  things, 
never  again  be  unhappiness  for  her.  She  recov- 
ered her  tranquillity ;  words  came  to  her ;  her 
silvery  laughter  rang  out.  Soon  she  was  ques- 
tioning him  as  to  his  proceedings  when  he  had  no 
reply  to  his  letter  ;  she  rejoiced  to  hear  him  say 
that  he  too  had  been  unhappy.  In  this  she  dif- 
fered from  him ;  her  assertion  had  given  him  a 
keen  pang.  She  brought  him  back  more  than 
once  to  this  point. 

"  So  you  were  worried  when  you  had  no  let- 
ter ?  "  she  said,  with  a  flattered  laugh  that  was 
all  he  could  reasonably  desire  as  protestation  or 
admission. 

"  Worried !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  was  nearly  out 
of  my  mind.  I  wrote  again  and  again  to  Robert, 
and  —  I  cannot  possibly  account  for  it  —  I  have 
never  received  a  reply  from  him.  Finally  I  went 
to  your  brother's  office,  in  Third  Street.*' 

"  For  what  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  To  discover  if  they  had  your  address." 

"  Away  down  there,  —  among  the  bulls,  and 
bears,  and  other  wild  animals  !  "  she  cried,  with 
her  happy  laughter.  "  That  was  romantic  and 
thrilling." 

"  It  was  not  very  congruous,  I  admit,  but  it 


150  FELICIA. 

was  my  only  chance.  Your  brother's  partner  de- 
clined to  give  me  your  address." 

She  stared  at  him ;  his  eye  glittered  ;  his  lips 
were  compressed ;  his  face,  with  the  expression  it 
wore  at  this  moment,  had  a  certain  ferocity.  He 
was  evidently  very  angry,  and  controlled  himself 
only  by  a  strenuous  effort. 

"  Mr.  Gale  did  that  ?  "  said  Felicia,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  He  was  very  polite  in  manner,  but  very  firm. 
He  said  he  had  your  brother's  express  instruc- 
tions that  in  case  I  should  ask  I  should  be  re- 
fused." 

Her  cheeks  were  aflame.  "  How  insulting !  " 
she  cried,  angrily.  After  a  moment's  reflection 
she  asked,  "  Why  should  John  do  such  a  thing  as 
that  ?  "  She  was  remembering  her  brother's  bit- 
ter antagonism,  and  divined  that  she  was  coming 
upon  an  explanation. 

"  I  can  only  account  for  it  upon  the  hypothesis 
that  he  has  very  strong  objections  to  my  profes- 
sion. Some  people  have,  you  know." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  sudden  smile.  "I 
don't  know,"  she  declared,  "  because  I  don't  know 
what  your  profession  is." 

His  face  showed  that  he  was  startled.  "  How 
can  that  be  ?  "  he  said. 

"  I  never  heard  you  speak  of  it,"  she  replied, 
growing  more  grave. 

"  Is  that  possible  ? "  he  rejoined,  reflectively. 
"  But  surely  Robert  must  have  mentioned  it  ?  " 


FELICIA.  151 

"Never,"  she  returned.  "And  if  you  don't 
object  to  terminating  my  suspense,  I  should  be 
glad  to  know  it  now." 

There  was  a  pause,  in  which  the  sounds  in  the 
street  invaded  the  silence  of  the  room. 


vni. 

So  long  the  silence  continued,  so  strangely  did 
it  all  at  once  seem  imbued  with  a  momentous 
meaning,  that  there  was  evident  trepidation  un- 
derlying the  impatience  in  Felicia's  voice  when 
she  again  spoke. 

"  What  is  your  profession  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Felicia,"  said  Kennett,  looking  into  her  eyes, 
"  I  am  a  singer.  That  is  my  profession." 

"  A  singer  ?  "  she  repeated,  vaguely.  "  Do  you 
mean  a  professional  singer  ?  In  opera  ?  " 

"Yes." 

She  gazed  at  him  blankly. 

"  Now  that  I  think  of  it,"  he  continued,  "  I 
cannot  remember  ever  mentioning  it.  But  how 
could  I  dream  that  you  did  not  understand  !  The 
name  is  so  well  known.  It  is  placarded  on  every 
blank  wall ;  it  is  in  every  newspaper." 

He  glanced  about  him,  observed  the  programme 
she  had  thrown,  with  her  hat,  on  the  table,  rose 
suddenly,  and  walked  swiftly  across  the  room. 
As  her  eyes  followed  him,  she  realized  now  that 
a  quality  which  she  had  thought  a  natural  gift  — 
his  grace,  a  certain  deftness  and  suppleness  of 
movement  and  attitude,  and  even  his  appropriate- 
ness of  manner  —  was  only  the  prosaic  result  of 


FELICIA.  153 

professional  training  in  gait  and  pose ;  a  sordid 
acquisition,  worked  for,  paid  for,  part  of  a  stock 
in  trade,  an  available  asset. 

It  was  with  a  certain  inconsequence  that  be- 
cause of  this  utilitarian  value  she  felt,  in  the 
midst  of  the  whirl  of  emotion  in  which  she  was 
abruptly  involved,  a  definite  sharp  pang,  —  she, 
whose  talent  in  what  might  be  called  the  art  of 
deportment  had  also  been  assiduously  cultivated 
for  merely  ornamental  purposes.  Her  sudden 
chagrin  that  he  was  thus  deprived  of  an  endow- 
ment of  aesthetic  worth,  with  which  her  respectful 
estimate  had  invested  him,  was  only  a  sentimental 
grief,  but  at  the  moment  it  was  almost  a  sense  of 
bereavement. 

He  returned  to  his  place  with  the  programme 
in  his  hand,  and  showed  her  that  printed  opposite 
to  Prince  Roderic  was  the  name  of  Hugh  Kennett. 

"  You  never  heard  of  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

There  are  many  degrees  in  notability.  He 
could  hardly  realize  it,  but  she  never  had. 

"  It  is  strange  that  you  never  heard  of  me,"  he 
said,  meditatively.  "  Did  they  never  take  you  to 
the  opera,  when  you  were  at  school  here  in  New 
York?" 

"They  took  us  to  the  Italian  opera  on  Patti 
nights,  and  when  there  were  other  great  stars,  and 
they  often  took  us  to  the  German  opera,"  said 
Felicia,  "but  they  didn't  seem  to  —  well  —  to 
think  a  great  deal  of  English  light  opera." 

He  was  a  polite  man,  and,  what  is  more  to  the 


154  FELICIA. 

purpose,  he  was  in  love.  He  did  not  openly 
sneer,  "  Fine  judges  !  "  but  there  was  much  of  re- 
sentful protest  in  the  sarcastic  gleam  in  his  eye. 

"  You  did  not  know  me,  then,  this  afternoon,  in 
costume?"  he  resumed. 

"  No,"  said  Felicia,  faintly. 

"  And  you  did  not  recognize  my  voice  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  never  heard  you  sing." 

"  But  sometimes  there  is  speaking." 

"  I  remember  that  once  or  twice  when  he  spoke 
—  when  you  spoke  —  I  was  affected  strangely, 
but  I  only  thought  it  was  a  resemblance.  I  did 
not  dream  of  anything  more.  How  could  I ! 
Then  the  singing  recommenced,  and  I  began  to 
think  about — about  something  else.  I  did  not 
even  look  at  that  programme.  My  mind  was  ab- 
sorbed. I  did  not  notice  anything  very  much." 

"  I  thought  I  spoke  of  my  profession  to  your 
brother,  the  evening  I  was  introduced  to  him, 
though  1  had  no  definite  purpose  in  doing  so.  I 
supposed  he  knew  all  about  it,  as  a  matter  of 
course." 

"  You  merely  mentioned  business." 

After  a  pause  he  said :  — 

"I  knew  you  this  afternoon,  in  a  moment, 
among  all  those  people.  As  soon  as  the  perform- 
ance was  over  I  changed  my  dress  as  quickly  as 
possible,  and  hurried  to  the  street  in  the  hope  of 
seeing  you.  And  when  you  said  to  your  young 
friend  that  you  considered  the  tenor  most  admi- 
rable I  overheard  it.  I  thought  you  felt  that  you 


FELICIA.  155 

had  treated  me  badly  in  not  answering  my  letter, 
and  wanted  me  to  hear  it.  I  thought  you  said  it 
under  a  sudden  impulse  to  make  amends." 

"  Oh,  no,  no.  I  did  n't  imagine  that  you  were 
the  tenor.  It  was  the  merest  accident." 

There  was  another  pause.  Then  he  took  her 
hand.  "  You  are  not  going  to  let  this  come  be- 
tween us?  "he  said.  "There  are  singers  —  and 
singers.  I  have  a  very  respectable  place.  I  may 
say  without  vanity  that*  I  stand  high.  I  expect 
to  stand  much  higher." 

He  lifted  his  head  with  a  quick  movement ;  his 
eyes  were  alight. 

"  I  shall  do  some  good  work  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
the  tense  vibration  of  elation  in  his  expressive 
voice.  "  Some  day  I  shall  sing  the  great  Wag- 
nerian  tenor  roles  as  they  have  never  yet  been 
sung.  I  don't  talk  and  boast  beforehand,  but  I 
will  do  much  to  be  proud  of.  So  far  I  have  only 
lacked  fair  opportunities,  but  they  will  come  ;  and 
I  am  ready  for  them." 

That  latent  capacity  for  expression,  ordinarily 
not  niore  than  suggested  in  his  severely  regular 
features,  was  distinctly  manifest  now.  His  face 
was  transfigured  with  the  light,  the  hope,  the  ex- 
ultation, upon  it.  He  wore  the  look  of  a  man 
on  the  verge  of  achievement,  —  perchance  on 
the  threshold  of  some  discovery  in  physics  which 
was  to  revolutionize  mechanical  science ;  or  thus, 
perhaps,  might  look  a  general  suddenly  evolving 
a  feat  of  strategy  whereby  the  enemy  would  be 


156  FELICIA. 

surrounded,  a  statesman  holding  the  destiny  of  a 
nation  in  his  hand. 

So  intent  of  purpose,  so  prescient  of  success,  so 
reverent  of  faith  in  the  worthiness  of  those  aims 
he  held  dear,  was  his  face  with  that  expression 
upon  it,  she  might  only  gaze  at  him  in  wonder. 

She  had  as  much  of  fashionable  musical  feeling 
as  might  remain  to  her  of  her  fashionable  musical 
education.  She  might  speak  knowingly,  in  the 
estimation  of  unmusical  people,  of  notable  pro- 
ductions. If  in  those  moonlit  evening  talks  they 
had  ever  chanced  on  the  subject,  it  might  have 
amused  him  to  have  heard  her  prattle  enriched 
by  such  expressions  as  "  tone  color,"  "  close  har- 
mony," "  technique,"  "  phrasing,"  "  contrapuntal 
effect."  In  her  naive  assumption  of  dilettanteism 
she  was  perfectly  sincere.  With  the  happy  con- 
fidence of  ignorance  she  fancied  she  knew  some- 
thing of  the  art ;  she  even  had  some  faint  idea 
that  as  a  science  it  held  certain  values,  perhaps 
important  values ;  she  was  aware  that  there  are 
schools  and  movements  in  varied  directions ;  she 
apprehended,  too,  that  there  is  an  ascending  scale 
in  lyric  achievement,  —  gradations,  for  example, 
between  the  roles  of  Nanki  Poo,  Don  Caesar,  Man- 
rico,  Vasco  di  Gama,  and  Lohengrin.  But  in 
essentials,  regarded  from  the  sensible  and  mun- 
dane vantage-ground  of  a  fine  social  position,  with 
the  conservatism  and  common  sense  of  its  atmos- 
phere and  traditions,  what  did  this  amount  to  ? 
They  were  all  tenor  roles,  the  possibility  of  an  as- 


FELICIA.  157 

piration  infinitely  removed  from  any  sympathies, 
except  of  a  purely  aesthetic  and  impersonal  sort, 
which  she  might  be  expected  to  entertain.  That 
such  achievement  might  be  the  serious  ambition, 
invested  with  force,  dignity,  absorption,  of  an  ear- 
nest nature,  endowed  with  a  highly  intelligent, 
even  a  highly  intellectual  organization ;  that  such 
a  goal  could  be  lifted  to  so  elevated  a  plane  of 
endeavor,  she  first  realized  from  the  look  in  his 
face. 

That  exultant  look  passed.  He  drew  a  long 
sigh. 

"  Ah,  well,"  he  said,  his  eyes  seeking  hers  with 
a  smile,  "  a  wise  man  will  not  forecast  futurity. 
We  had  best  confine  our  attention  just  now  to  the 
present :  that  is  simple  and  practical.  The  pres- 
ent, as  it  happens,  is  sufficiently  satisfactory.  I 
am  in  demand  with  managers.  I  get  a  good  sal- 
ary. As  to  the  profession  "  —  He  hesitated ; 
his  color  rose.  "  I  don't  apologize  for  the  profes- 
sion. I  am  not  ashamed  of  it.  Although  I  am  a 
singer,  I  hope  I  am  a  gentleman." 

Felicia  withdrew  her  hand  from  his.  "Don't 
argue  it  with  me,"  she  said.  "  Let  me  think  it 
out  and  decide  for  myself." 

She  crossed  the  room  to  the  window,  and  stood 
leaning  against  the  frame,  while  he  sat  silent, 
watching  her.  It  was  well  fcr  his  peace  that  he 
did  not  realize  the  struggle  in  the  mind  of  Ma- 
dame Sevier's  pupil  and  John  Hamilton's  sister. 
To  admire  the  tenor  was  one  thing ;  to  be  in  love 


158  FELICIA. 

with  the  man  was  a  different  and  a  much  more 
complicated  matter.  Her  natural  bent  and  the  ac- 
quired influences  that  had  made  her  what  she  was 
placed  her  in  revolt  against  this  culmination.  The 
atmosphere  she  had  breathed  was  as  aristocratic 
as  the  free  air  of  a  republic  can  be.  She  under- 
stood remarkably  well  —  especially  considering 
the  fact  that  she  had  never  known  their  depriva- 
tion —  the  worth  of  an  established  position  in 
society,  the  value  of  fortune,  its  subtler  as  well  as 
its  practical  value.  Heretofore  she  had  been  un- 
aware that  she  had  gauged  these  things,  —  one 
does  not  consciously  appraise  the  air  one  breathes. 
Now  that  it  was  brought  before  her  she  could 
accede  to  the  proposition  without  fully  realizing 
it,  that  outside  of  her  world  there  was  a  world 
with  other  standards  of  excellence,  other  esti- 
mates of  values,  other  objects  of  ambition.  It 
might  be  a  very  talented,  highly  artistic  world, 
but  it  was  not  hers.  The  John  Hamiltons,  the 
Mrs.  Stanley-Brants,  the  Madame  Seviers,  the 
Mrs.  Graftons,  —  the  code  they  exemplified,  the 
life  they  typified,  the  status  they  expressed,  — 
these  made  her  world.  And  even  in  that  alien 
sphere  of  his  he  was  not  eminent ;  he  was  merely 
a  notable  member  of  a  moderately  meritorious 
organization.  In  a  crisis  like  this  dormant  intui- 
tions abruptly  develop  into  knowledge.  She  was 
suddenly  aware  that  there  are  many  gradations  in 
that  world  whose  existence  she  had  ignored.  He 
evidently  stood  high  in  a  certain  line,  but  his  line 


FELICIA.  159 

was  not  high  ;  possibly  he  would  never  reach  any- 
thing higher  ;  and  he  would  devote  all  his  powers 
to  the  attempt.  What  an  ambition !  What  a 
future !  To  consecrate  his  varied  and  excellent 
capacities  to  success  in  a  pursuit  at  its  best  gro- 
tesquely unworthy  of  them  and  of  him  !  Could 
she  share  a  life  pledged  like  this  ?  Her  pride  was 
on  fire. 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  give  it  up  ?  "  she 
asked,  without  turning  her  head. 

"  My  profession  ?  "  he  said,  wonderingly. 

She  assented.     There  was  a  pause. 

"  Do  you  realize  what  you  ask  ?  "  he  replied  at 
last.  "  I  cannot  give  it  up.  It  is  my  living.  I 
am  fitted  for  nothing  else.  I  have  been  in  train- 
ing for  fifteen  years." 

Again  she  was  silent,  and  he  marveled  that  she 
should  take  it  so  hard.  He  was  becoming  a  great 
man  in  his  world,  —  so  like,  yet  so  unlike,  her 
world.  He  was  applauded  and  praised  by  the 
public,  held  in  respect  by  the  magnates  of  his 
craft,  admired  by  his  associates,  revered  by  those 
below  him,  whose  ambition  it  was  to  have  in  some 
auspicious  future  the  opportunity  to  imitate  him. 
He  was  as  far  from  comprehending  the  issues 
which  led  to  contemptuous  aversion  for  his  voca- 
tion as  she  was  from  comprehending  those  which 
led  to  pride  in  it.  When  he  spoke,  she  detected 
something  in  his  voice  she  had  never  before 
heard. 

"  I  cannot  understand  why  you  object  so  seri- 
ously," he  said. 


160  FELICIA. 

She  kept  her  face  tm-ned  persistently  from 
him.  She  promised  herself  that  she  would  not 
be  influenced.  She  would  not  be  touched  by  his 
sense  of  injury,  his  wounded  pride.  It  had  come 
to  a  choice,  —  that  was  evident ;  she  could  not 
hope  he  would  relinquish  his  profession.  And 
the  choice  should  be  a  deliberate  one. 

The  stealthy  wind  was  rising,  hardly  distin- 
guishable above  the  muffled  noises  on  the  streets ; 
the  air  was  saturated  with  a  heavy  moisture ;  the 
mist  was  accented  at  intervals  by  the  yellow  blur 
of  the  invisible  lamps ;  faint  lightnings,  fitful, 
vague,  like  indefinite,  piteous  phantoms,  skulked 
across  the  black  sky.  And  ever  the  treacherous 
wind  was  rising. 

She  must  choose.  To  give  him  up  ?  That 
meant  a  great  deal.  She  realized  her  inordinate 
sensitiveness  to  the  disposition  and  temperament 
of  those  near  to  her.  To  be  comprehended  thor- 
oughly ;  to  be  her  truest  self  without  effort,  expla- 
nation, or  qualification  ;  to  discover  in  another 
mind  and  heart  the  complement  of  her  own 
thought  and  feeling ;  to  experience,  in  thus  shar- 
ing the  thought  or  feeling  of  that  other  mind  and 
heart,  its  deeper,  fuller  development ;  to  delight 
in  the  delight  which  her  presence,  her  words,  her 
glances,  could  give  :  to  find  her  exacting  taste 
satisfied,  her  intellectual  nature  met  on  its  own 
level :  to  feel  the  hours  imbued  with  a  happiness 
that  never  palled,  the  fulfillment  of  a  joyous  ex- 
pectation, —  this  was  what  those  weeks  of  early 


FELICIA.  161 

summer  had  given  her.  Having  once  known  so 
perfect  an  accord,  vouchsafed  to  few  even  of  the 
most  fortunate  of  mortals,  could  she,  did  she  dare 
to  voluntarily  relinquish  it  ?  The  recollection  of 
all  she  had  endured  during  their  separation  surged 
over  her  in  a  wave  of  bitterness.  She  remem- 
bered, too,  how  needlessly  and  cruelly  it  had  been 
enhanced.  But  she  said  to  herself  she  would  be 
dispassionate  ;  she  would  admit  that  her  brother 
had  great  cause  for  annoyance,  disappointment, 
even  dismay,  —  he  could  hardly  have  felt  those 
more  acutely  than  she  had  done  this  evening ;  his 
wife  might  well  be  distressed.  But  what  of  the 
conciliation  due  from  a  brother  who  loves  his 
sister ;  what  of  the  sympathy  one  woman  gives 
another  woman's  heartache  !  She  resolutely  with- 
drew her  thoughts  from  this  branch  of  the  sub- 
ject ;  she  would  not  risk  her  happiness,  she  de- 
clared to  herself,  to  be  revenged  on  John  and 
Sophie  by  making  a  marriage  they  would  bitterly 
deprecate.  They  should  not  influence  her.  The 
decision  involved  only  her  future  and  Hugh  Ken- 
nett's.  No  other  consideration  should  have  weight. 

How  should  she  decide  ?  To  give  him  up  ? 
Could  she  do  it  ?  To  marry  him  ?  To  place  in 
controversy  the  human  heart  and  the  implacable 
forces  of  conventionality?  —  it  was  a  dangerous 
experiment. 

The  rain  was  falling  heavily  and  the  wind  was 
loud  at  last.  And  as  to  the  menace  that  the  fu- 
ture held,  as  to  the  pallid  potentialities  of  regret, 


162  FELICIA. 

disappointment,  despair,  could  these  vague  gleams 
slipping  about  the  horizon,  contend  against  the 
effulgence  of  love  and  hope  ?  Only  a  room 
bounded  by  four  walls,  or  a  realm  vast  as  the  uni- 
verse ?  And  darkness  had  come,  and  the  pro- 
phecy of  winter  was  on  the  turbulent  air  ;  or  were 
light  and  summer  here,  and  all  sweet  promises 
and  dreams  ? 

When  she  suddenly  turned,  there  was  a  strange 
commingling  of  expressions  on  her  expressive 
face ;  that  tumult  of  thought  and  perplexity 
which  had  torn  her  with  a  sort  of  mental  anguish, 
and  had  stamped  her  features  with  its  intensity 
and  its  trouble,  was  still  upon  them.  But  a  radi- 
ance was  dawning  in  her  eyes,  and  an  amazed  de- 
light that  this  feeling  which  she  could  not  conquer 
was  stronger  than  her  will.  She  held  out  her 
hands  to  him.  "  I  cannot  give  you  up,"  she  said, 
simply.  "  I  thought  I  could  —  and  I  cannot." 

That  night  Kennett  sang  and  acted  like  a  man 
inspired.  His  elaborate  stage  training,  which 
had  been  a  conspicuous  element  in  the  excellence 
of  his  work  heretofore,  was  now  merely  a  subser- 
vient adjunct  —  valuable,  but  imperceptible  —  to 
the  fiery  and  tender  exaltation  which  possessed 
him. 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  if  you  're  going  to  keep  this  up, 
Kennett,  you  '11  walk  over  the  course  away  from 
all  of  us,"  said  j'oung  Preston,  during  one  of  the 
waits,  as,  arrayed  in  ruby-tinted  velvet,  he  threw 
himself  into  a  chair  in  Kennett's  dressing-room, 


FELICIA.  163 

and  elevated  his  feet  to  the  back  of  another  chair. 
He  lifted  a  glass  to  his  lips  and  drained  it  with  a 
grace  of  gesture  that  would  have  done  justice  to 
'28  port,  but  it  was  only  beer. 

"  Kennett  must  be  a  little  tight,"  said  Abbott, 
dryly.  "A  man  is  always  at  his  best  when  he 
is  a  little  tight." 

Kennett  only  laughed.  He  was  a  notable  fig- 
ure as  he  stood  among  them,  gay  and  triumphant, 
and  with  brilliant  eyes.  Small  wonder  that  Fe- 
licia had  not  recognized  him  in  costume.  That 
which  had  met  the  requirements  of  her  stringent 
taste,  a  certain  neutrality,  a  conservatism,  gave 
him  the  look  of  an  unobtrusive  and  serious  man, 
and  had  even  rendered  inconspicuous  certain 
qualities  of  his  personality,  —  the  regularity  of 
his  features,  his  symmetry  and  grace  of  figure  and 
gait ;  for  the  stage  hero  these  had  a  market  value, 
and  were  brought  out  and  accented  by  his  auburn 
wig,  his  rouge,  his  slashed  black-and-gold  costume, 
his  long,  supple,  easy  stage  stride. 


rx. 

JUDGE  HAMILTON  reached  New  York  the  next 
morning. 

In  comparison  with  his  father,  John  Hamilton 
might  be  deemed  meek.  There  was  a  strong  like- 
ness between  the  two  in  appearance  ;  the  elder 
man  being  a  trifle  more  florid,  stout,  bald,  and 
hale  than  the  younger.  What  little  hair  he  pos- 
sessed, however,  was  gray ;  his  mustache  was 
short,  bristling,  and  white  ;  he  was  more  vehement 
and  rapid  of  speech ;  he  had  an  emphatic  gesture 
of  the  right  hand  brought  down  upon  the  open 
palm  of  the  left  which  the  son  had  not  yet  ac- 
quired. He  also  had  a  habit,  in  excitement,  of 
throwing  back  his  head,  widening  his  eyes,  and 
dilating  his  nostrils,  which  were  flexible  and  open, 
with  a  sound  resembling  a  snort  of  indignation  or 
of  intense  affirmation.  At  such  moments  he  sug- 
gested a  horse  subjected  to  unusual  cerebral  activ- 

ify. 

When,  his  shaggy  white  eyebrows  contracted 
over  his  big,  indignant  dark  eyes,  he  listened  to 
the  reasons  which  led  to  the  summer  "  pleasuring," 
his  first  impulse  was  to  settle  accounts  with  his 
unlucky  son. 

"  I  thought  it  was  better  to  take  her  away  from 


FELICIA.  165 

there,"  said  John,  concluding  his  report.  "  I 
thought  that  perhaps  in  changing  about  from 
place  to  place  she  would  lose  interest  in  the  fellow 
and  maybe  forget  him." 

The  old  gentleman,  when  his  son  ceased, 
bounded  from  his  chair  with  an  elasticity  wonder- 
ful in  a  man  of  his  years  and  weight.  He  was 
almost  inarticulate  in  his  wrath,  as  he  dashed 
about  the  room,  accenting  his  words  by  a  sound- 
ing thump  on  the  floor  with  his  stick,  and  now 
and  then  facing  round  on  his  anxious  son. 

"  By  the  Lord  Harry,"  he  roared,  "  you  ought 
to  be  in  the  lunatic  asylum,  sir !  You  ought  to 
have  a  guardian  appointed,  sir  !  You  are  not  fit 
to  manage  your  own  affairs  !  Any  man  who  can't 
take  better  care  than  that  of  a  girl  like  Felicia 
ought  n't  to  be  trusted  with  business." 

He  stood  still  suddenly,  beating  out  the  words 
impressively  on  the  marble-topped  table  ;  and  the 
decanters  and  glasses  —  ordered  by  his  son  in  the 
hope  of  a  mollifying  preparatory  influence  —  rang 
with  the  vibrations. 

"  Good  Lord,  sir,  I  would  n't  have  believed  it ! 
I  send  my  daughter  —  the  best  child  in  the  world, 
and  the  most  docile  —  to  your  house  to  make  you 
a  visit,  because  you  and  Sophie  insist  on  having 
her,  and  because  it  is  dull  for  her  at  home,  and 
you  let  her  fall  in  love  with  an  oper-y  singer !  " 

It  is  beyond  the  possibility  of  the  printer's  art 
to  intimate  the  scorn  which  the  old  gentleman  in- 
fused into  these  words.  He  spoke  them,  too,  with 


166  FELICIA. 

a  certain  remarkable  nasal,  rustic  drawl,  sugges- 
tive of  extremely  rural  regions.  Perhaps  he  had 
picked  it  up  in  the  more  remote  counties  of  his 
circuit.  Whenever  he  chose,  in  scorn  and  anger, 
to  affect  this  tone,  it  always  made  his  daughter 
wince  with  a  disapprobation  that  was  nearly  akin 
to  pain.  He  was  an  able  lawyer,  a  logical  rea- 
soner,  an  intellectual  man,  accustomed  to  good 
society,  but  occasionally,  in  some  crisis  of  temper, 
his  personation  of  an  ignorant  country  boor 
would  have  been  useful  in  the  profession  he  con- 
temned. 

"  An  oper-y  singer,"  he  drawled ;  "  light  oper-y  ! 
Comic  oper-y,  I  suppose.  They  tell  me  that 's 
lower  than  the  other  kind.  Comic  oper-y  ! 
Mighty  comical,  I  '11  swear  !  And  you  have  the 
grit  to  tell  me  that  you  and  Sophie  hope  it  will 
not  amount  to  anything  serious  !  It 's  damned 
serious  !  And  you  tell  me  you  hope  he  '11  disap- 
pear from  here,  do  you  ?  A  man,  too,  with  a  sort 
of  claim,  —  kin  to  that  blamed  fool  Bob  Ray- 
mond! Kin  to  the  pa'son,  sir, — kin,  in  a  sort 
of  way,,  to  her  cousin  Amy.  And  you  invited  the 
man  to  call !  You  found  out  nothing  about  him, 
—  his  business,  his  character,  his  habits,  his 
friends  !  You  only  invited  him  —  a  perfect  stran- 
ger —  to  your  house  —  just  because  he  was  kin 
to  dear  cousin  Bob,  the  pa'son !  Then  you  took 
yourself  off  to  Dakota  next  morning,  and  he  came 
to  the  house  every  day  or  so !  Met  a  girl  like 
Felicia  mighty  near  every  day  !  And  you  hope  a 


FELICIA.  167 

fellow  with  that  much  chance  and  that  much 
claim  will  never  be  heard  of  any  more !  God 
bless  you,  John,  what  a  fool  you  are  !  " 

It  might  be  supposed  from  these  strictures  that 
the  old  gentleman's  wrath  would  soon  exhaust  it- 
self. Such  an  expectation  would  be  based  on  a 
very  slight  knowledge  of  the  resources  of  his  tem- 
per. He  shared  none  of  John's  ideas  as  to  the 
policy  of  non-explanations.  Almost  his  first 
words  to  his  daughter  were  on  this  subject.  She 
came  in  with  delight  to  meet  him,  having  for  a 
moment  dashed  aside  her  anxieties.  She  threw 
herself  into  his  arms,  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 
There  was  great  fondness  between  them.  He 
petted  and  spoiled  her,  rebuked  and  praised  her, 
lavishly,  inconsistently,  and  inconsiderately  ;  and 
his  demonstrative  and  tyrannical  affection  had 
never  seemed  to  her  so  precious  as  now. 

"  See  here,  Felicia,"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  hur- 
ried kiss  and  a  tremendous  hug,  "  what 's  all  this 
they  tell  me  about  their  having  introduced  stran- 
gers to  you  ?  When  did  you  see  that  fellow  Ken- 
nett?" 

Perhaps  it  was  the  courage  of  desperation  which 
nerved  her  to  reply  with  calmness :  "  I  saw  him 
yesterday  afternoon,  papa." 

Though  Judge  Hamilton  became  purple  with 
wrath,  he  cast  a  glance  of  triumph  at  his  son,  — 
a  glance  which  said  bitterly,  "  What  did  I  tell 
you?" 

"  I  find  that  the  man  is  an  opera  singer.  Did 
you  know  that  ?  "  he  demanded. 


168  FELICIA. 

*'  I  have  known  it  only  since  yesterday,"  said 
Felicia. 

"  Ah  —  um  —  is  that  the  case  ?  Well,  I  don't 
blame  you,"  with  a  gulp ;  the  old  gentleman  was 
trying  to  be  just.  "  But  he  is  not  an  appropri- 
ate acquaintance  for  you.  It  is  a  low  business,  — 
comic  opera  is." 

"  I  dislike  it  as  much  as  you  do,"  said  Felicia, 
in  a  low  tone. 

"  That 's  a  reasonable  girl.  I  thought  you 
would  look  at  it  that  way,"  said  Judge  Hamilton, 
with  great  approbation.  "  Yes,  yes,  it 's  a  low 
business ;  don't  wonder  you  disapprove  of  any- 
body connected  with  it.  You  shall  not  meet  that 
man  again." 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  promise  you  that,  papa," 
said  Felicia,  still  more  faintly.  "  I  am  going  to 
marry  him." 

The  color  suddenly  left  Judge  Hamilton's  face, 
then  surged  back  in  a  deeply  crimson  tide. 
"  Hey  !  hey  !  "  he  demanded,  as  if  he  doubted  his 
sense  of  hearing. 

At  this  moment,  after  his  customary  annuncia- 
tory  tap,  the  brisk  bell-boy  entered  with  a  card, 
which  he  handed  to  Judge  Hamilton.  Then  he 
stood  still  awaiting  instructions. 

Judge  Hamilton  hurriedly  examined  his  pocket 
for  his  spectacle-case.  He  did  not  find  it,  and 
with  a  growl  of  impatience  he  gave  the  card  to 
his  son,  for  the  benefit  of  his  younger  eyes.  One 
glance  at  John's  perturbed  countenance  as  he 
read  the  name  was  sufficient,, 


FELICIA.  169 

"  That 's  the  man,  is  it  ?  "  said  the  old  gentle- 
man sharply.  "Yes,  I  thought  so.  Show  him 
in,  you,  sir !  "  He  glared  at  the  startled  bell- 
boy with  a  fierceness  intended  for  Keniiett. 
"  Show  him  in  immediately  ! " 

As  the  servant  vanished  he  walked  up  and 
down  the  room  in  a  sort  of  angry  elation.  "  I  '11 
settle  this  matter  at  once ! "  he  cried.  "  Stay 
where  you  are,  Felicia,"  for  she  had  risen  to  make 
her  escape.  "  Sit  down,"  he  ordered  perempto- 
rily. "  I  intend  to  put  an  end  to  this  affair ;  I  '11 
settle  it."  He  thumped  the  floor  with  his  thick 
cane,  in  his  excitement. 

At  the  sound  of  the  opening  door,  Judge  Ham- 
ilton faced  about  suddenly.  The  sedate,  almost 
saturnine  gentleman  on  the  threshold  did  not  ac- 
cord with  his  idea  of  an  opera  singer  in  private 
life.  His  mental  ideal  was  of  a  more  pronounced 
type.  However,  he  stepped  quickly  to  the  middle 
of  the  room.  The  hand  holding  his  stick  was 
trembling  violently  ;  his  eyes  were  very  fierce. 

"  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  sir,  your  name  is  Ken- 
nett,"  he  began.  "  Yes,  I  thought  so.  Now,  sir, 
I  am  a  man  of  few  words,  —  a  plain  man.  I  am 
told  you  have  been  visiting  my  daughter.  I  don't 
approve  of  it.  I  won't  have  it.  I  know  nothing 
against  you  personally,  but  I  won't  have  an  opera 
singer  among  her  acquaintance.  You  will  be  so 
good  as  to  discontinue  your  calls." 

John  Hamilton,  now  that  he  was  relieved  of 
the  responsibility  of  the  crisis,  was  able  to  look  at 


170  FELICIA. 

Kennett,  at  this  trying  moment,  with  a  certain 
dispassionate  criticism  impossible  earlier ;  and  in 
this  calmer  mood  he  marveled  at  Felicia's  infatu- 
ation. No  man  could  fully  gauge  another  man's 
power  in  a  matter  of  this  sort,  he  reflected,  but, 
making  all  allowance,  what  could  she  see  in  this 
fellow  ?  He  looked  like  an  honest  man,  with  the 
proclivities  of  a  gentleman,  of  somewhat  more 
than  average  intelligence.  It  was  perhaps  the 
best  which  might  be  said  for  him  that  his  was  a 
lucid  nature,  with  a  certain  dignity,  a  certain 
strength.  Surely  this  was  not  remarkable  ;  there 
were  doubtless  hundreds  and  thousands  of  men 
equal  to  him  in  these  respects,  in  the  conventional 
walks  of  life.  How  had  she  happened  to  fancy 
the  man?  She  was  not  a  fool  to  be  attracted 
merely  by  the  tawdry  glitter  appertaining  to  his 
vocation.  What  a  commentary  on  the  perversity 
of  women  that  she,  with  her  ultra-fastidious  no- 
tions, should  be  seized  upon  by  an  infatuation 
like  this,  without  even  the  absurd  excuse  of  dash, 
romance,  fascination,  in  its  object  to  explain  it ! 

Judge  Hamilton's  look  and  tone,  in  their  arro- 
gance, their  intolerance,  were  hard  to  endure 
without  protest  more  or  less  insistent,  but  the 
habit  of  self -management  had  been  the  business 
of  Kennett's  life ;  the  exercise  of  tact,  of  policy, 
was  a  daily  necessity.  It  was  with  a  judicious 
admixture  of  firmness,  of  self-respect,  and  of  re- 
spect for  Judge  Hamilton's  seniority  that  he  re- 
plied. 


FELICIA.  171 

"Your  daughter  has  promised  to  marry  me," 
he  said,  "  and  I  shall  use  every  effort  to  induce 
her  to  keep  her  promise." 

Judge  Hamilton  shifted  his  hand  from  the  head 
of  his  cane,  and,  grasping  it  in  the  middle,  bran- 
dished it  with  a  wildly  threatening  motion. 

"  But  I  tell  you,  sir,  I  won't  have  it ! "  he  ex- 
claimed, in  a  stentorian  roar. 

"  She  has  promised  to  marry  me,"  repeated  the 
young  man. 

Is  every  able  jury  lawyer  an  actor  as  well ;  has 
he  something  of  that  wonderful  faculty  which  can 
instantaneously  master  a  situation,  experience  an 
emotion,  gauge  and  apportion  its  reflex  action 
upon  the  natures  of  others ;  or  was  there  hidden 
away  in  Judge  Hamilton's  intellectual  being  an 
exceptional  gift  of  which  he  was  half  unconscious? 
His  face  suddenly  cleared ;  he  let  his  cane  slip 
through  his  fingers,  which  lightly  tightened  upon 
the  gold  head ;  he  gently  tapped  the  floor ;  he 
nodded  two  or  three  times,  with  an  expression  de- 
noting perfect  faith  in  his  own  words. 

"  She  will  never  do  it,"  he  said.  "  She  will 
marry  no  man  without  my  consent."  He  turned 
upon  his  daughter  a  beautiful  look  of  tenderness 
and  confidence.  "  She  is  fond  of  her  old  father," 
he  added,  simply. 

It  was  a  fine  touch  and  very  well  done ;  all  the 
actor's  sensitive  perceptions  made  Kennett  keenly 
alive  to  its  artistic  merits.  The  others,  less  dis- 
criminating, were  more  emotionally,  and  conse- 


172  FELICIA. 

quently  more  vividly  impressed.  Evidently  this 
had  told  heavily  against  him.  He  was  beginning 
to  lose  his  calmness ;  he  attempted  to  argue. 

"  If  her  happiness  is  at  stake,"  he  said  eagerly, 
"  does  it  not  occur  to  you  that  my  personal  char- 
acter is  a  matter  worthy  of  some  consideration? 
I  think  a  little  inquiry  would  satisfy  you  on  this 
score.  I  can  "  — 

"I  need  inquire  no  further,  sir,  than  your 
business,"  returned  Judge  Hamilton,  lapsing  into 
anger.  "  To  me  it  is  intolerable,  unendurable. 
Allow  my  daughter  to  marry  a  singer,  an  oper- 
atic singer!  Sir,  I  would  not  for  one  moment 
entertain  the  idea." 

If  he  could  have  stopped  here,  the  affair  might 
even  yet  have  adjusted  itself  on  his  basis.  Since 
that  fine  little  stroke  of  delicate  sentiment  his 
daughter  had  grown  white ;  there  were  tears  on 
her  cheek.  He  loved  her  so,  —  her  father,  —  and 
she  was  fond  of  him ;  what  must  she  do,  —  what 
must  she  do  ? 

When,  however,  Judge  Hamilton's  astuteness 
and  his  temper  were  weighed  in  the  balance,  the 
chances  were  in  favor  of  the  temper  as  the  more 
definite  element.  It  shortly  effaced  the  impres- 
sion his  tact  had  produced. 

"  There  are  other  considerations  "  —  persisted 
Kennett. 

"  Can't  you  take  No  for  an  answer  ?  "  inter- 
rupted the  old  gentleman,  aggressively.  "  There 
is  no  use  in  discussing  the  matter." 


FELICIA.  173 

Kennett  turned  suddenly  to  Felicia.  His  self- 
possession  was  gone  at  last.  She  had  never 
thought  to  see  him  so  shaken.  His  voice  was 
strained ;  the  hand  that  held  his  hat  was  trem- 
bling ;  the  look  of  appeal  he  bent  upon  her, 
charged  with  a  sort  of  helplessness  in  significant 
contrast  with  his  strength  as  she  had  known  him 
heretofore,  was  very  potent  with  the  woman  who 
loved  him.  Her  heart  beat  fast;  she  looked  at 
him  piteously. 

"I  will  take  my  answer  only  from  you,  Feli- 
cia," he  said. 

The  tone  in  which  he  pronounced  her  name, 
the  fact  that  he  dared  utter  her  name  at  all,  set 
the  old  gentleman's  blood  boiling.  He  again 
grasped  his  cane  in  the  centre  and  made  a  hur- 
ried stride  forward ;  then  he  turned  sharply  and 
fixed  his  angry  eyes  on  his  daughter. 

"Give  him  his  answer,"  he  commanded;  "his 
answer  is  No  !  " 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  I  will  be  obeyed,  Felicia !  "  he  thundered. 
"  Send  the  man  about  his  affairs !  Give  him  his 
answer ;  his  answer  is  No  !  You  shall  obey  me ! 
Send  him  away  —  or  I  '11  disinherit  you  —  I  '11 
write  my  will  this  night,  and  cut  you  off  without 
a  cent ! " 

"  Lord,  Lord  !  "  groaned  John,  in  his  corner. 
"  To  threaten  a  girl  like  Felicia  !  And  he  calls 
me  a  lunatic !  "  But  John  groaned  this  reflection 
very  sotto  voce  indeed. 


174  FELICIA. 

Felicia  had  risen  ;  her  color  had  come  back  in 
a  brilliant  spot  on  either  cheek ;  her  eyes  were 
bright. 

"  You  bring  money  into  this  discussion,  papa," 
she  said.  "  I  will  not  obey  you  for  such  a  rea- 
son. I  will  not  send  him  away  so  that  I  may  in- 
herit your  money.  I  feel  \ery  well  satisfied  that 
he  will  take  care  of  me.  Besides,"  she  added, 
proudly,  "  I  am  not  a  beggar.  I  have  my  own 
property  that  mamma's  father  left  me." 

The  old  gentleman  glared  at  her  in  a  baffled 
way  during  this  defiance,  and  as  she  concluded  he 
gave  a  loud  snort  of  scorn  and  anger. 

"  Lord,  yes,"  he  exclaimed,  contemptuously, 
"  you  have  got  that !  I  'd  lost  sight  of  that  vast 
estate.  Oh,  yes,  you  've  got  your  mother's 
share." 

"  And  you  can  leave  your  money  to  whom  you 
please.  /  don't  want  it !  "  cried  Felicia,  unap- 
peasable now. 

In  this  spirit  of  mutual  defiance  the  contest  was 
waged  afterward.  There  was  no  more  of  soften- 
mg  on  either  side.  Felicia  could  not  forgive  her 
father's  threat  of  disinheritance ;  it  had  kindled 
even  more  resentment  than  John's  mistaken  and 
disingenuous  policy  of  silent  antagonism.  Judge 
Hamilton,  on  his  side,  could  not  forgive  her  in- 
fatuation, and  it  held  for  him  the  element  of  dis- 
mayed astonishment.  He  was  one  of  those  men 
whose  critical  faculty  is  not  disarmed  by  partial- 
ity. His  very  fondness  for  his  daughter  made 


FELICIA.  175 

him  keenly  alert  to  her  faults,  and  he  had  de- 
cided, upon  what  he  deemed  abundant  evidence, 
that  a  pronounced  worldly-mindedness  was  one  of 
those  faults,  —  that  she  had  an  undue  apprecia- 
tion of  a  fine  establishment,  of  the  newest  and 
most  desirable  attainment  in  equipage,  diamonds, 
laces,  the  triumphs  of  the  dressmaker's  and  milli- 
ner's arts.  He  desired  that  she  should  enjoy  these 
good  and  valuable  things,  that  she  should  appre- 
ciate them  fully,  and  yet  that  she  should  in  some 
sort  spiritually  ignore  them.  The  reverse  dan- 
ger, the  unreasoning  reliuquishment  of  all  this 
gilded  and  refined  mammon,  he  had  not  felt  called 
upon  to  fear. 

In  this  emergency  he  took  Madame  Sevier  into 
his  confidence.  His  feeling  toward  this  lady  was 
somewhat  contradictory.  When,  ten  years  before, 
he  had  opened  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  his  daugh- 
ter was  growing  into  a  tall,  dreamy,  awkward  girl, 
extremely  fond  of  books  and  abnormally  ignorant 
of  everything  else,  he  selected  a  notable  French 
boarding-school  as  offering  the  influences  likely 
to  ward  off  the  danger  that  she  would  develop 
into  a  desultorily  intellectual  and  socially  un- 
trained woman.  With  the  result  of  the  exper- 
iment he  was  not  altogether  satisfied  ;  yet  he 
could  hardly  say  what  was  lacking.  She  was,  as 
he  desired,  educated,  yet  not  over-educated ;  her 
taste  was  schooled,  her  social  gifts  were  culti- 
vated ;  she  had  a  good  French  and  Italian  accent, 
and  spoke  both  languages  fluently ;  she  sang  and 


176  FELICIA. 

played  on  the  piano  and  harp  very  creditably,  ac- 
cording to  the  authorities,  —  he  admitted  his  in- 
capacity to  judge  in  this  regard  ;  she  understood 
life  and  society,  —  there  was  no  doubt  about  that. 
Sometimes  he  called  the  vague  fault  ho  found 
in  this  product  of  Madame  Sevier's  civilization 
frivolity;  sometimes,  vanity,  petty- minded  ness, 
artificiality.  It  not  occur  to  him  that  he  had  de- 
sired an  impossibility  :  worldly  training  with  sim- 
plicity, intellect  without  its  self-assertion,  social 
culture  without  its  imperative  demands  and  its 
intolerance.  He  was  as  greatly  surprised  that 
the  moderately  near  approximation  to  his  ideal 
which  his  daughter  embodied  should  not  be  con- 
tent with  the  society  of  Blankburg  divinity  stu- 
dents, thus  negativing  her  intellectual  tendencies, 
as  that  she  should  ignore  her  worldly  training  by 
giving  a  serious  thought  to  a  man  in  Hugh  Ken- 
nett's  position  in  life.  He  forgot  now  all  that  he 
had  said  in  disapprobation  of  Madame  Sevier, 
her  methods  and  achievement,  and  turned  to  her 
for  aid,  as  he  had  done  ten  years  before. 

She  gave  him  her  most  ardent  sympathy,  —  who 
feels  another's  woe  so  keenly  as  one  whose  own 
interest  is  also  involved  ?  She  threw  up  her 
hands ;  she  elevated  her  fine  gray  eyes,  her  deli- 
cate black  eyebrows,  and  her  thin,  expressive 
shoulders.  And  she  said  with  the  intensest  and 
most  sincere  feeling,  "  A-h-h,  mais  mon  Dieu, 
c'est  trop  terrible !  "  An  eloquent  dismay  was 
depicted  on  every  feature :  on  the  curves  of  her 


FELICIA.  177 

short  upper  Up ;  on  the  thin  dilating  nostrils  of 
her  classic  nose;  in  the  flush  that  overspread  the 
clear  pallor  of  her  cheek  ;  on  the  delicate  net- 
work of  wrinkles  that  corrugated  her  frowning 
brow,  and  extended  to  the  dense  black  hair 
streaked  with  gray  which  she  dared  to  dress,  in 
this  day  of  curls  and  bangs,  in  the  fashion  of 
forty  years  ago,  —  in  soft  loose  waves  on  each  side 
of  her  broad  low  forehead.  Her  favorite  pupil, 
the  show  young  lady  of  the  Institute,  who  had 
been  with  her  for  ten  years,  whom  she  was  accus- 
tomed to  point  out  as  an  exemplification  of  what 
she  and  the  Institute  could  do,  —  her  Felicite,  of 
whom  she  was  so  fond  and  so  proud,  —  to  marry 
an  opera  singer,  and  thus  reinforce  the  fascina- 
tions of  the  stage  hero  for  silly  school-girls !  She, 
the  model,  the  intellectual,  —  it  would  have  sur- 
prised Alfred  Grafton,  the  extent  to  which  Fe- 
licia's intellectuality  was  esteemed  at  the  Insti- 
tute, —  she,  the  clear-headed,  the  solid-minded ! 
Ah-b-h  !  such  an  example  to  the  other  young  la- 
dies !  What  could  Madame  Sevier  do  but  call 
upon  her  bon  Dieu,  maintain  that  this  was  af- 
freux,  and  promise  to  see  Felicia  at  once  ? 

She  was  eminently  calculated  to  influence  Fe- 
licia. The  magnetism  of  her  presence,  her  supe- 
rior mental  qualities,  the  adroitness  of  her  tact, 
the  graceful  tenderness  of  her  demonstrations  of 
affection,  the  force  of  long  association,  all  con- 
spired to  bring  their  strength  to  any  cause  she 
might  espouse.  This  time,  however,  she  was  too 


J78  FELICIA. 

thoroughly  interested  to  avail  herself  fully  of 
these  aids.  Her  tact  at  a  moment  of  peril  was 
not  equal  to  her  earnestness,  —  which  affords 
gratifying  evidence  of  the  sincerity  inherent  in 
the  human  soul.  Beyond  this  Madame  Sevier 
was  at  a  disadvantage.  An  argument  which  can 
be  supported  only  by  commonplace  truisms  —  so 
obvious  that  nobody  denies  them  —  is  necessarily 
weak.  She  could  only  declare  in  varied  phi-ase 
that  marriage  is  a  serious  matter  ;  that  a  passing 
fancy  should  not  be  allowed  to  jeopardize  solid 
happiness ;  that  only  in  romances  is  emotion  the 
all  in  all  of  existence.  It  might  have  been  better 
if  she  had  stopped  here,  but  — 

*'  Ah,  rna  chere,  c'est  trop  affreux !  Only  re- 
flect. How  public !  how  notorious !  And  your 
father  and  brother  are  so  violent,  so  imprudent. 
Ah-h-h,  my  dear,  these  family  storms  will  be 
heard  of.  You  are  notable.  The  Institute  is  so 
notable  I  There  will  be  paragraphs.  Ah,  yes, 
indeed  ;  the  reporters  are  hungry  for  items. 
Paragraphs  in  the  newspapers  about  the  beauti- 
ful heiress,  a  former  pupil  of  the  well-known  Se- 
vier Institute,  who  is  bent  on  marrying  a  singer  ! 
Ah,  just  Heaven !  I  would  not  have  that  hap- 
pen for  a  great  deal.  Give  it  up,  my  dear  Feli- 
cia. Think  of  the  Institute !  Think  of  ME  !  " 

It  may  be  doubted  if  Judge  Hamilton's  parti- 
san did  his  cause  much  service. 

So  strained  and  unnatural  a  situation  could  not 
long  remain  unchanged.  It  was  radically  and 


FELICIA.  179 

very  suddenly  altered  one  afternoon,  when  Feli- 
cia walked  down  to  the  public  parlor  of  the  hotel, 
met  Hugh  Kennett,  and  accompanied  him  to  St. 
—  Church,  where  they  were  quietly  married. 
In  an  hour  thereafter,  Judge  Hamilton,  his  son, 
Sophie,  and  the  children  had  left  New  York ;  the 
two  gentlemen  metaphorically  shaking  the  dust 
from  their  indignant  feet,  and  literally  bestowing 
hearty  maledictions  on  the  devoted  city  and  all  it 
contained. 


X. 

THE  jets  in  the  great  chandelier  were  slowly 
lowered ;  the  large  semicircle  of  the  auditorium, 
over  which  the  flutter  of  fans  and  ripple  of  smiles 
suggested  the  fugitive  effect  of  breezes  and  but- 
terflies about  a  bed  of  flowers,  sank  gradually 
into  deep  shadow  ;  the  footlights  became  suddenly 
brilliant ;  the  prompter's  bell  tinkled ;  the  cur- 
tain glided  upward ;  the  second  act  had  begun, 
and  Prince  Roderic  advanced  down  the  right 
centre  to  a  soft  pizzicato  movement  of  violins, 
through  which  floated  the  melody,  sustained  by 
cornets  and  flutes. 

A  round  of  applause  greeted  him.  The  curtain 
had  fallen  upon  him  as  the  central  figure  of  an 
effective  scene,  and  the  situation  was  one  which 
appealed  to  the  sense  of  pity  and  the  sense  of  jus- 
tice, thus  moving  the  popular  heart.  And  now 
was  introduced  in  hiding  in  certain  woods  this 
potentate,  vaguely  described  as  prince,  deposed 
from  his  indefinite  high  station  through  his  own 
confiding  nature  and  the  machinations  of  a  false 
and  trusted  friend,  whose  office  seemed  to  em- 
brace all  the  functions  of  a  Grand  Vizier.  Abun- 
dant opportunity  was  afforded  for  soft  and  deft 
stepping  about  and  for  graceful  attitudinizing,  as 


FELICIA.  181 

the  prince  assured  himself  that  no  hidden  foe 
lurked  in  ambush  among  the  trees  and  rocks. 
Satisfied  that  he  was  alone,  save  for  a  thousand  or 
so  people  in  the  audience,  who  do  not  count,  ex- 
cept in  the  sordid  computations  of  the  ticket  office, 
he  gave  himself  up  to  despairing  reflections  on  his 
situation,  supplemented  by  vows,  in  sufficiently 
heroic  strain,  of  vengeance.  His  voice,  rich  and 
robust,  embodied  a  certain  nobility,  and  the  cov- 
ertly martial  orchestration  heightened  the  effect. 
The  contrast  to  sudden  tenderness  —  expressing 
the  idea  of  an  amazed  incredulity  and  grief  be- 
cause of  the  perfidy  of  his  friend  —  in  the  succeed- 
ing movement  was  so  well  done,  assisted  as  it  was 
by  a  very  soft  and  taking  melody,  that  it  brought 
down  the  house  and  extorted  an  encore. 

It  is  seldom  that  any  prince,  on  or  off  the  stage, 
is  watched  with  such  a  complication  of  feelings  as 
those  which  animated  a  pair  of  violet  eyes  in  one 
of  the  proscenium  boxes.  Felicia  had  been  mar- 
ried six  months,  and  this  was  her  first  acquaint- 
ance with  the  prince  —  as  a  prince.  To  the  mere 
man  she  had  given  much  intelligent  appreciation 
and  her  tender  heart.  Now,  what  of  the  prince  ? 
She  was  proud  of  him  ;  she  could  not  help  that,  — 
he  did  it  so  well.  Her  musical  training  had  been 
sufficient  to  enable  her  to  admire  enthusiastically 
his  voice  and  gauge  the  extent  of  its  culture. 
She  was  ashamed  of  him,  —  that  he,  bedizened  in 
stage  finery  and  with  a  painted  face,  should  dis- 
play himself  and  his  capacities  so  that  all  these 


182  FELICIA. 

people,  who  had  paid  their  money,  might  be  en- 
tertained, might  approve  or  disapprove  at  their 
good  pleasure!  She  pitied  him.  To  her  it  all 
seemed  so  small,  so  false,  so  utterly  unworthy  of 
him  ;  and  yet  he  was  so  thoroughly  satisfied  with 
it,  and  —  he  did  it  so  well.  And  she  had  discov- 
ered that  it  was  no  light  task,  —  to  do  this  well. 
She  had  had  glimpses  of  the  incessant  labor ;  the 
unceasing  exercise  of  judgment,  of  patience,  of 
memory ;  the  tense  strain  on  the  nerves ;  the  ex- 
hausting attention  to  detail,  which  go  to  make 
that  airy  structure,  a  success  on  the  lyric  stage, 
which  presents  the  very  perfection  of  spontaneous 
inspiration. 

She  had  arrived  late,  and  had  missed  the  first 
act.  When  he  came  walking  down  the  stage  in 
this  new  guise,  so  strange  to  her,  she  felt  her 
heart  beating  fast  and  heavily,  and  the  color 
slowly  left  her  face.  It  returned  with  a  rush 
when  the  sound  of  clapping  hands  broke  the  si- 
lence, and  she  leaned  slightly  forward,  watching 
him  with  a  grave  face  and  intent  eyes. 

Thus  she  was  looking  at  him  when  he  caught 
sight  of  her. 

There  was  little  change  in  her  since  the  en- 
chanted days  of  last  summer;  none  but  a  keen 
observer  might  detect  a  subtler  expression  on  her 
expressive  features.  Something  was  suggested  of 
the  emotions  of  a  woman  who  loves  entirely  and 
is  entirely  loved.  There  was  beside  something 
more  complex  than  this, — not  pain,  not  restless- 


FELICIA.  183 

ness,  yet  partaking  to  a  degree  of  each,  and  con- 
tending with  that  deeper,  stiller  look  which  happi- 
ness had  given  to  her  face. 

This  was  a  good  deal  to  see  in  one  half  minute, 
but  Hugh  Kennett  saw  with  his  intellect  and  his 
heart  as  well  as  with  his  eyes,  while,  with  long 
golden  curls  hanging  beneath  his  plumed  hat,  and 
arrayed  in  a  costume  of  violet  velvet,  combining 
two  tones,  very  faint  and  very  dark,  which  gave 
back  the  lustre  of  the  footlights,  yet  held  rich 
shadows,  he  stepped  deftly  about  in  his  search 
for  Prince  Roderic's  implacable  foes  among  the 
tangled  intricacies  of  the  canvas  rocks  and 
bushes. 

As  the  tenor  finished  his  encore,  the  baritone 
came  on  in  a  green  hunting-suit,  apparently  wind- 
ing a  silver  horn,  which  office  was  judiciously 
delegated  to  a  member  of  the  orchestra.  Felicia 
gathered  that  the  baritone  and  the  prince  were 
rivals  in  love,  and  that  the  baritone  had  left  the 
court  in  dudgeon  because  of  the  prince's  presump- 
tive success  with  the  lady  previous  to  his  exile, 
brought  about  by  the  perfidious  Grand  Chamber- 
lain. There  was  a  melodic  defiance,  pitched  on  a 
high  key,  and  later,  when  matters  were  explained, 
much  graceful  and  musical  magnanimity  on  both 
sides.  With  the  offer  on  the  part  of  the  baritone 
to  join  the  usurper's  forces,  and  to  introduce  the 
prince  in  disguise  into  his  own  dominions,  in  an 
effort  to  regain  his  status,  the  scene  closed ;  the 
silver  horn  was  again  wound;  the  prince,  by 


184  FELICIA. 

agreement,  passed  up  the  left  centre ;  and  a 
party  of  huntsmen  came  into  view  at  the  back  of 
the  stage,  to  the  prelude  of  a  dashing  chorus 
'chronicling  the  joys  of  the  chase. 

The  face  with  which  Hugh  Kennett  dropped 
into  a  chair  in  his  dressing-room,  after  changing 
his  costume,  was  not  Prince  Roderic's  face,  nor 
was  it  the  serene  face  he  usually  wore.  The 
paint  did  not  obscure  its  expression  :  it  was  anx- 
ious ;  it  held  some  impatience,  some  depression, 
some  uncertainty.  "  How  did  she  happen  to 
come  ?  "  he  said  to  himself.  And  then,  "  I  sup- 
pose she  considers  me  a  sort  of  Harlequin,"  he  re- 
flected, bitterly. 

Abbott  entered  a  moment  later.  He  too  had 
changed  his  dress,  substituting  for  the  green 
hunting -suit  a  blue  and  white  costume  very  re- 
splendent with  silver  lace,  supposed  to  be  the 
acceptable  court  attire.  He  flung  himself  into  a 
rocking-chair,  lighted  a  cigar,  and  for  a  moment 
the  two  men  were  silent. 

The  room  was  small  and  in  disarray.  Much- 
bedizened  costumes  were  tossed  about  the  chairs ; 
several  pairs  of  stage  slippers  were  on  the  floor  ; 
the  gas-jets  on  each  side  of  a  mirror  were  alight, 
and  from  the  elbow  of  one  of  the  brackets  de- 
pended a  blond  wig.  The  hair  was  very  long  and 
curled,  and  the  effect  was  that  of  a  decapitated 
head  as  the  locks  waved  in  the  breeze,  for  the 
window  was  open.  It  was  a  warm  night  for  the 
season,  —  the  first  week  in  April ;  there  had  been 


FELICIA.  185 

rain,  and  the  air  was  heavy.  Abbott  picked  up  a 
palm-leaf  fan,  and  as  he  swayed  back  and  forth  he 
fanned  himself.  His  mobile,  irregular  face  was 
in  this  brilliant  light  ghastly  and  unnatural,  with 
its  staring  contrasts  of  red  and  white ;  those 
heavy  lines  about  his  mouth  and  brow  were  plas- 
tered over,  but  there  were  black  semicircles  under 
his  eyes.  His  nervous  temperament  was  mani- 
fested by  the  restlessness  of  his  movements :  he 
changed  his  attitude  abruptly ;  he  glanced  about 
him  with  eagerness  ;  he  plied  the  fan  with  en- 
ergy ;  the  very  act  of  rocking  was  done  with  a 
rapid,  uncertain  motion. 

"  Your  wife  is  here,"  he  said,  suddenly. 

Kennett  glanced  at  him. 

"  I  don't  mean  in  here,"  said  Abbott,  with  a 
laugh.  "  Outside,  —  in  the  audience  —  in  one 
of  the  boxes." 

"  I  know  it,"  returned  Kennett. 

There  was  a  short  pause. 

"  She  does  n't  honor  you  often,"  remarked  Ab- 
bott. 

Kennett  made  no  reply.  These  men  had  known 
each  other  long  and  well;  each  was  perfectly 
aware  of  the  other's  thought,  —  nay,  Abbott  even 
divined  his  friend's  impulse  to  declare  that  her 
absence  was  through  his  own  desire,  and  the  in- 
stantaneous rejection  of  the  half-formed  intention 
as  useless  for  the  purpose  of  deception.  And 
Kennett  knew  that  Abbott  was  triumphant  be- 
cause she  had  not  come  before  this,  and  was  con- 


186  FELICIA. 

tradictorily  and  characteristically  resentful  of  her 
neglect. 

"  Sometimes  I  think,"  Abbott  went  on,  reflect- 
ively, "  that  it  is  best  for  a  man  not  to  marry  out 
of  meeting,  as  the  Quakers  say."  He  himself  had 
married,  while  yet  a  chorus  singer,  a  young  girl 
with  a  rustic  style  of  beauty,  also  a  chorus  singer, 
who  had  left  the  stage  before  progressing  beyond 
that  point. 

Kennett  again  said  nothing. 

"  The  identity  of  interest,  —  that 's  the  thing ; 
the  sympathy,  you  know.  I  suppose  it  is  impos- 
sible for  an  outsider  to  feel  it  exactly." 

"  If  you  lay  down  a  general  rule,  no  doubt  you 
are  right,"  returned  Kennett,  coolly. 

Abbott  looked  at  him  hard,  with  a  feeling 
which  is  somewhat  difficult  of  analysis.  His  was 
a  nature  in  which  the  sweet  and  bitter  were 
mixed  in  exact  proportions.  There  was  some- 
thing feminine  in  his  disposition,  illustrated  just 
now  in  an  impulse  to  say  that  which  would  cut 
and  rankle;  yet  his  affection  for  his  friend  was 
strong  and  sincere.  His  unreasoning  and  unreas- 
onable perversity  went  hand  in  hand  with  magna- 
nimity. He  could  throw  himself  with  ardor  into 
another  man's  effort,  sincerely  sympathize  with 
his  defeat  and  rejoice  in  his  achievement ;  and  he 
could  no  more  refrain,  when  in  the  mood,  from 
gibe  and  fleer  than  a  freakish  woman,  in  irrita- 
tion or  disappointment,  can  leave  un uttered  the 
word  that  stabs  the  heart  she  loves  best.  He  had, 


FELICIA.  187 

at  the  time,  deplored  Kennett's  marriage  as  a  ca- 
lamity. Judge  Hamilton  and  his  son  might  pos- 
sibly have  enlarged  their  estimate  as  to  the  scope 
of  human  impudence,  if  they  could  have  divined 
Mr.  Abbott's  point  of  view.  Since  that  event  he 
had  not  altered  his  opinion. 

After  a  pause  he  spoke  again. 

"Marriage  is  a  mistake,  and  don't  you  forget 
it,"  he  said,  thoughtfully  ;  "  that  is,  for  a  man 
with  ambitions.  It  does  well  enough  for  medi- 
ocrity." 

Kennett  looked  at  him  fixedly,  with  set  teeth 
and  compressed  lips,  which  brought  into  play  the 
latent  fierceness  his  square  lower  jaw  could  ex- 
press ;  there  was  a  steely  gleam  in  his  gray  eyes. 

The  crisis  required  only  a  look.  Abbott  re- 
treated in  good  order.  He  glanced  innocently  at 
his  friend  and  vaguely  about  the  room,  fanning 
himself  and  smoking. 

"  Good  house,"  he  remarked,  with  a  nod  in  the 
direction  of  the  audience. 

"  The  duet  went  well,"  said  Kennett. 

"  You  bet,"  rejoined  Abbott. 

His  quick  sense  caught  the  step  of  the  advan- 
cing call-boy  before  the  door  was  opened.  He 
sprang  from  his  chair  to  the  mirror,  took  a  swift, 
comprehensive  look  at  himself,  readjusted  with 
a  dextrous  hand  the  collar  of  stage  jewels  about 
his  throat,  and  vanished  without  another  word. 

Kennett,  left  alone,  rose  and  walked  to  the 
window.  His  step  was  heavier  than  its  wont. 


188  FELICIA. 

A  warm,  clank  breeze  was  blowing ;  the  clouds 
were  low.  The  sounds  from  the  street,  the  rattle 
of  wheels  as  a  carriage  drew  up  near  the  mouth 
of  the  alley,  the  pawing  of  a  horse,  the  accents  of 
a  voice  raised  in  objurgation,  the  distant  tinkle  of 
car-bells,  carne  muffled  on  the  thick  air ;  an  al- 
most imperceptible  drizzle  of  rain  made  itself  felt 
on  his  face.  It  was  an  imprudent  thing  for  him 
—  the  most  prudent  of  men  —  to  stand  in  his  airy 
attire  at  the  open  window,  and  it  was  almost 
equally  imprudent  to  give  himself  up  to  his  purely 
personal  interests,  in  this  interval  which  belonged, 
as  distinctly  as  active  duties,  to  his  professional 
work.  Instead  of  devoting  the  wait  to  mere  men- 
tal and  physical  rest,  or  to  the  anticipation  of 
what  remained  to  be  done  in  the  next  hour,  his 
mind  was  busy  with  a  brief  review  of  the  last  six 
months  and  the  effect  of  a  foreign  influence  on 
his  life.  Abbott's  ill-natured  dictum  came  back 
to  him  with  malignant  iteration.  Was  his  mar- 
riage a  mistake  ?  For  his  own  heart,  his  happi- 
ness, he  indignantly  denied  this.  But  for  his  am- 
bitions, his  future,  his  artistic  development  ? 

So  far  the  foreign  influence  had  been  merely 
negative.  Felicia  had  held  apart  from  his  pro- 
fessional life  ;  she  had  ignored  as  much  as  was 
practicable  the  fact  that  he  had  any  life  except 
the  one  she  shared.  In  the  early  weeks  of  their 
marriage,  the  perception  had  come  to  him  that 
her  persistent  pretexts  for  declining  to  accompany 
him  to  the  performances  and  rehearsals  were  part 


FELICIA.  189 

of  a  premeditated  plan.  When  he  realized  this 
he  ceased  to  urge  her,  aud  without  explanation 
there  came  to  be  a  tacit  agreement  that  his  stage 
life  was  a  thing  apart  from  his  domestic  life.  It 
was  very  quietly  but  very  firmly  accomplished. 
He  winced  under  it,  but  his  pride  was  roused,  and 
he  accepted  the  situation  without  protest.  Now  he 
was  asking  himself  how  it  was  that  a  merely  neg- 
ative influence  could  chill.  He  did  not  believe 
that  a  difference  was  as  yet  perceptible  in  his 
work,  for  thorough  training  and  the  habit  of  a 
lifetime  go  far  as  substitutes  for  ardor,  but  he 
sometimes  knew  —  and  it  was  growing  upon  him 

—  a  deep-felt  want ;  he  recognized  it,  —  it  was  a 
lost  impulse,  a  lost  inspiration.     While  still  in  his 
possession  it  had  dignified  his  calling,  it  had  made 
toil  light,  it  had  invested  the  tedious  details  with 
recurrent  interest.     Now  that   he   missed   it   he 
appreciated  its  worth  both  as  a  sentimental  pos- 
session and  as  a  tangible  factor  in  achievement. 
He  wondered  how  this  would  end  ;  he  wondered 
if   a ,  change   impended ;   he   wondered   how  she 
happened  to  come  here  to-night.     He  wondered 
again  if  she  rated  him  as  a  bedizened  Harlequin, 

—  it  must  all  be  buffoonery  to  her. 

The  call-boy  stuck  his  head  in  at  the  door. 

"  Stage  waits." 

The  reflections  that  had  absorbed  the  last  ten 
minutes  narrowly  missed  being  a  singularly  unfor- 
tunate preparation.  For  the  first  time  in  many 
years  Kennett  experienced,  as  he  left  the  wings, 


190  FELICIA. 

the  poignant  anguish  of  stage  fright.  He  pulled 
himself  together  by  a  great  effort ;  he  called  up 
all  his  faculties.  At  this  moment  he  met  her 
eyes  again  ;  she  smiled,  and  her  face  wore  an  ex- 
pression he  often  saw  in  that  closer  life  which  had 
come  to  be  so  much  dearer  to  him  than  his  public 
life.  Under  the  impetus  of  the  thought  that  per- 
haps after  all  she  might  reconcile  those  diverse 
existences  he  regained  his  self-command,  but  he 
was  vaguely  aware  of  a  sub-current  of  surprised 
dismay  that  her  approval  or  her  objection  should 
exercise  so  strong  a  control.  His  capacities  had 
responded  to  that  smile  of  hers  like  a  horse  to  a 
touch  on  the  curb. 

The  representation  continued  to  a  felicitous 
conclusion.  The  usurper,  unconscious  of  his  im- 
pending doom,  robed  in  power  and  red  velvet, 
made  welcome  the  stranger  —  all  unsuspecting 
the  prince  in  disguise  —  in  a  fine  bass  solo,  em- 
bodying some  elements  of  self-gratulation  and 
braggadocio  which  afforded  the  opportunity  for 
an  arrogant  and  mocking  ha  !  ha  !  peculiarly  rich 
and  full.  Laughing  and  dying  were  conceded  to 
be  this  gentleman's  province ;  and  he  presently 
demonstrated  his  claim  to  superiority  in  the  latter 
accomplishment  when  the  counterplot  culminated, 
and,  overwhelmed  and  despairing,  he  stabbed 
himself,  circumventing  the  representatives  of  jus- 
tice, who  would  fain  have  dragged  him  to  a  dun- 
geon, by  dying  melodiously  in  E  minor.  The 
rightful  prince  was  restored  to  his  possessions,  in- 


FELICIA.  191 

eluding  the  heart  of  the  soprano;  the  baritone 
made  the  timely  discovery  that  he  had  mistaken 
his  feelings,  had  been  unawares  interested  in  an- 
other young  lady,  and  was  satisfied  with  her 
hand ;  the  faithful  adherents  vociferously  pro- 
claimed their  joy ;  the  orchestra  sympathetically 
and  vivaciously  accented  their  sentiments ;  the 
tableau  formed  itself  swiftly  and  incomprehensi- 
bly into  a  glittering  semicircle  of  brilliant  colors 
and  flower-like  faces  ;  the  lights  in  the  auditorium 
brightened ;  the  curtain  slowly  descended  ;  there 
was  a  final  crash  and  bang  of  instruments,  and 
the  performance  was  over. 

As  she  stood  watching  the  audience  making  its 
way  out  of  the  building,  a  note  was  brought  to 
Felicia.  It  was  signed  with  Kennett's  initials, 
and  merely  asked  her  to  wait  for  him  a  few  mo- 
ments. In  a  short  time  he  entered  the  box. 

An  old  lady,  whom  he  had  not  before  observed, 
was  with  his  wife,  —  a  sedate  old  lady,  dressed 
with  punctilious  regard  to  the  fashion  in  some  re- 
spects, and  in  other  respects  disdainfully  ignoring 
it.  '  She  regarded  him  intently  when  he  was  pre- 
sented, and  the  three  made  their  way  across  the 
street  to  the  hotel.  At  supper,  of  which  she  was 
induced  to  partake,  she  gazed  at  him  with  a  cov- 
ert curiosity,  which  had  in  it  something  at  once 
ludicrous  and  embarrassing.  She  accorded  the 
gravest  attention  to  whatever  he  said,  and  seemed 
to  weigh  carefully  her  somewhat  commonplace  and 
obvious  replies.  Before  the  conclusion  of  the  meal 


192  FELICIA. 

she  demurely  bade  them  good-night,  adding  that 
she  was  unaccustomed  to  such  late  hours,  and  be- 
took herself  to  her  own  room. 

"Who  is  she?"  asked  Kennett,  as  the  rustle 
of  her  black  silk  dress  died  on  the  air. 

"  She  is  the  wife  of  one  of  my  father's  old 
friends.  Her  husband  and  she  happened  to  be 
passing  through  the  city.  I  met  her  in  the  hotel 
parlor,  and  asked  her  to  go  to  the  opera." 

"  She  seemed  to  think  me  a  queer  fish." 

Felicia  laughed.  "  You  must  forgive  her,"  she 
said.  "  This  is  a  remarkable  experience ;  she 
never  before  took  supper  with  a  singer  and  a 
singer's  wife." 

He  did  not  quite  comprehend  her  tone,  and  he 
was  vividly  conscious  that  for  the  first  time  she 
had  mentioned  him  as  a  singer  and  herself  as  a 
singer's  wife.  Nothing  more  was  said  on  the  sub- 
ject until  they  returned  to  their  own  room.  She 
threw  herself  into  a  low  chair,  and  he  lighted  a 
cigar  and  stood  near  her,  with  his  elbow  on  the 
mantelpiece. 

"  This  is  a  new  departure,  is  n't  it?  "  he  asked, 
after  a  pause. 

She  raised  her  eyes  slowly.  "  It  is  an  experi- 
ment," she  replied. 

"  Why  did  you  come  ?  " 

"  I  thought  the  other  experiment  had  been  tried 
sufficiently." 

"Has  it  failed?" 

"  I  think  it  has." 


FELICIA.  193 

He  walked  up  and  clown  the  room  for  some 
moments,  with  his  hands  behind  him ;  then  re- 
sumed his  former  place  and  attitude. 

"What  was  your  experiment,  Felicia?  " 

"  I  wished  to  prove  to  myself  that  in  marrying 
a  singer  I  had  not  necessarily  married  his  profes- 
sion." 

"  And  you  did  not  prove  it  ?  " 

She  did  not  reply  directly. 

"  A  woman  who  marries  a  lawyer  takes  no 
thought  of  his  clients ;  a  woman  who  marries  a 
doctor,  —  what  does  she  care  for  his  patients  or 
their  diseases?  I  suppose  Sophie  hardly  knows 
whether  her  husband  deals  in  cotton,  or  wheat,  or 
dry  goods.  Your  vocation  is  business,  like  any 
other  pursuit:  women  have  nothing  to  do  with 
business." 

"  You  dislike  it  so  much,"  he  said,  not  interrog- 
atively. 

"  Oh,  so  much ! "  cried  Felicia,  impulsively. 
Then  she  checked  herself.  "  I  take  that  back. 
I  should  not  say  that.  You  chose  your  line  in 
life  long  before  you  ever  met  me ;  it  has  the  prior 
right.  I  don't  complain." 

"  If  you  dislike  it  so  much,"  he  said,  disregard- 
ing her  retraction,  "you  need  see  very  little  of  it. 
Why  not  continue  as  we  have  begun?" 

All  at  once  he  was  made  aware  that  while  he 
was  enacting  mimic  woes  a  drama  of  real  feeling 
had  been  going  on  very  near  to  him.  Again  she 
lifted  her  eyes,  and  now  their  expression  cut  him 
deeply ;  her  lips  were  quivering. 


194  FELICIA. 

"  I  am  so  lonely,"  she  said,  simply. 

It  is  a  bitter  thing  for  a  sensitive  man  to  see 
that  look  on  the  face  of  the  woman  he  loves,  and 
to  realize  that  he  is  to  blame  that  she  should  be 
called  upon  to  endure  the  feeling  which  elicits  it. 
For  the  first  time  he  took  into  consideration  the 
fact  of  his  own  absorptions  ;  of  his  eager  and  un- 
failing response  to  the  demands  of  his  profession. 
He  saw  in  a  swift  mental  review  what  her  life 
must  be  as  a  whole.  He  realized  the  gaps  of 
time  that  she  must  sit  alone  in  the  hotel  bed- 
room, with  its  dismal  simulacrum  of  comfort,  and 
occasionally  of  luxury,  in  the  huge  caravansaries 
which  marked  their  progress  eastward  or  west- 
ward. What  could  she  do  with  the  hours  while 
she  thus  waited  for  him  to  come  from  rehearsals 
and  the  evening  performances  ?  Write  letters  ? 
To  whom  ?  All  her  valued  friends  she  had  alien- 
ated by  her  marriage.  To  be  sure,  there  were 
books,  painting,  fancy-work.  These,  he  realized 
with  sudden  insight,  are  the  resources  of  people 
who  are  not  living  their  own  dramas.  Of  what 
did  she  think  in  those  long  hours  ?  Did  memory 
take  possession  of  her  ?  So  young  a  woman 
should  have  nothing  to  do  with  memory.  Ah, 
had  regret  too  made  acquaintance  with  her  heart, 
while  he  was  away?  He  appreciated  that  slit- 
must  have  experienced  much  of  the  sensation  of 
isolation.  Her  connection  with  the  little  world  of 
theatrical  people  amounted  to  a  formal  bow  to 
certain  members  of  the  troupe,  in  the  hotel  din- 


FELICIA.  195 

ing-rooms  or  on  the  trains,  and  for  many  reasons 
he  hardly  cared  to  have  this  otherwise.  He  re- 
called now  —  it  had  made  scant  impression  at 
the  time  —  the  gleeful  interest  with  which  she  re- 
counted, one  day,  in  Buffalo,  an  interview  she  had 
had  with  a  little  girl,  who  had  stopped  her  in  a 
corridor  to  tearfully  relate  her  woes,  exhibit  a 
broken  doll,  and  be  consoled.  Once  when  she 
had  attended  a  morning  service  in  Washington, 
—  alone,  for  he  was  no  church-goer,  —  the  white- 
haired  old  lady  to  whose  pew  she  was  shown  had 
spoken  to  her,  and  hoped  she  would  come  again. 
She  had  recurred  to  the  circumstance  more  than 
once ;  saying  wistfully  that  she  wished  they  could 
stay  longer  in  Washington,  and  that  they  knew 
some  one  who  could  introduce  them  to  that  old 
lady,  —  it  would  be  "  so  pleasant."  And  once  in 
New  York  Madame  Sevier  had  called  ;  he  had 
fancied,  that  evening,  there  were  evidences  of 
tears  on  his  wife's  face,  but  she  said  nothing,  and 
the  incident  slipped  into  the  past. 

This  had  been  her  social  life  for  the  last  six 
months,  —  she  whose  instinct  for  human  compan- 
ionship was  so  strong  and  had  been  so  assiduously 
cultivated.  Even  of  his  leisure  he  had  been  un- 
consciously chary,  giving  much  of  it  to  the  details 
of  his  work  ;  only  to-day  she  had  waited  long  by 
the  piano  until  he  satisfied  himself  that  certain 
passages  were  susceptible  of  no  further  improve- 
ment. 

In  this  sudden  enlightenment  other  facts  ac- 


196  FELICIA. 

quired  new  meaning.  There  seemed  now  some- 
thing pathetic  in  the  touches  of  ornamentation 
about  them.  He  had  been  amused  by  her  efforts 
to  give  a  homelike  look  to  the  stereotyped  rooms 
of  the  hotels  at  which  they  had  temporarily  lived, 
in  their  ceaseless  progress  "  on  the  road."  She 
had  provided  herself  with  vases,  portieres,  books 
handsomely  bound  and  illustrated;  the  tables  were 
draped  with  embroidered  covers  ;  the  two  arm- 
chairs were  decorated  with  scarfs.  He  had  called 
these  things  her  "properties,"  and  had  laugh- 
ingly threatened  to  send  them  on  ahead  with  the 
stage  effects  of  the  troupe.  Now  he  was  touched 
by  the  feminine  longing  for  a  home  and  its  asso- 
ciations which  this  tendency  implied.  For  him- 
self, his  personal  tastes  were  of  the  simplest ;  per- 
haps the  attention  to  matters  of  effect  and  fabric 
incident  to  his  professional  life  had  satisfied  what- 
ever predilection  in  that  line  he  possessed. 

When  a  man  has  been  successful,  flattered,  ad- 
mired, and  always  in  the  right,  and  when  he  sud- 
denly discovers  that  he  is  in  the  wrong  and  his 
feeling  is  deeply  involved,  expressions  do  not 
readily  present  themselves.  Keiinett's  thought 
was  —  and  at  the  time  it  was  perfectly  sincere  — 
that  his  insensibility  had  been  brutal.  To  her  he 
said  nothing  for  some  moments. 

"  Try  to  like  us  ! "  he  exclaimed  at  last,  with 
emotion.  "  There  are  some  good  men  and  women 
among  us.  There  are  even  some  agreeable  peo- 
ple among  us.  Idealize  us  a  little.  Half  the 


FELICIA.  197 

world  lives  and  is  happy  by  means  of  illusions ; 
why  not  you  ?  " 

But  even  while  he  spoke  there  came  upon  him 
a  stunning  realization  that  many  conditions  were 
utterly  metamorphosed  by  the  changed  point  of 
view.  His  toleration  in  judgment,  which  she  had 
once  noticed,  was  exercised  instinctively,  good- 
humoredly,  but  always  impersonally.  These  men 
and  women,  for  example,  whom  he  mentioned, 
many  of  them  sterling,  hard-working,  talented,  — 
he  could  approve  of  them  as  members  of  society, 
as  his  own  casual  associates,  his  comrades,  his 
friends.  But  it  had  not  before  occurred  to  him 
that  he  had  judged  them  leniently  because  he  had 
held  himself  a  little  —  just  a  very  little  —  above 
them  ;  that  for  many  complicated  and  subtle  rea- 
sons he  condescended ;  he  felt  himself  a  little 
above  the  profession.  It  was  a  fine  thing  in  its 
way,  and  eminently  calculated,  taking  into  view 
his  peculiar  order  of  talent,  to  advance  him.  He 
felt  that  this  was  an  absurd  position  for  him  to 
have  assumed.  He  was  with  the  stage,  he  was 
of  it ;  his  family  was  identified  with  it,  his  father 
and  grandfather  having  been  actors  of  consider- 
able note;  his  interests  were  identical  with  the 
interests  of  those  he  had  unconsciously  patro- 
nized ;  they  were  his  circle  ;  they  must  necessarily 
be  his  wife's  circle,  unless  she  preferred  isolation. 

The  next  day  she  went  with  him  to  rehearsal. 

There  was  much  to  interest  her  in  her  new  ex- 
perience, and  she  did  not  observe  that  she  herself 


198  FELICIA. 

was  the  object  of  curiosity  and  covert  attention  on 
the  part  of  members  of  the  troupe,  as  she  sat  in 
the  dim  twilight  of  one  of  the  proscenium  boxes. 
The  huge  empty  semicircle  of  the  auditorium  was 
unlighted  save  by  a  long  slanting  bar  of  sunshine 
that  shot  adown  the  descent  of  the  dress  circle. 
The  stage  also  was  dim,  although  several  gas-jets 
were  burning.  A  number  of  men  and  women  in 
street  attire  were  grouped  about,  presenting  a 
very  different  appearance  from  the  glittering 
throng  of  last  night.  Many  of  the  faces  were  at 
once  curiously  young  and  old.  Some  were  care- 
worn ;  some  were  anxious ;  some  were  bold ;  some 
were  hard  ;  many  told  no  story  and  held  no  mean- 
ing. A  man  evidently  in  authority  was  talking 
loudly  and  vivaciously  ;  now  and  then  he  walked 
about  fitfully,  and  occasionally  he  gesticulated  in 
illustration  of  his  words.  Most  of  his  hearers  had 
so  bored  and  inattentive  a  look  that  it  might  have 
seemed  worn  of  set  purpose.  The  members  of 
the  orchestra  lounged  in  their  places,  their  instru- 
ments ready. 

The  weather  had  changed  in  the  course  of  the 
night ;  a  cold  wind  was  blowing.  The  building 
was  not  well  heated,  and  from  some  opening  at 
the  back  of  the  stage  came  a  strong  draught, 
bringing  a  damp,  vault-like  taste  and  odor.  Feli- 
cia, who  had  removed  her  wrap,  an  expensive  fur 
garment,  more  in  keeping  with  her  previous  cir- 
cumstances than  her  present,  shivered  slightly. 
Kennett  rose  and  readjusted  it  about  her. 


FELICIA.  199 

"  Don't  signalize  the  occasion  by  taking  cold," 
he  said. 

A  voice  behind  him  broke  upon  the  air,  —  a 
mocking,  musical,  penetrating  voice,  subtly  sug- 
gestive of  possibilities  and  of  meanings  not  to  be 
lightly  understood. 

" '  Benedict,  the  married  man ' !  "  exclaimed  the 
voice. 

Kennett  turned  his  head.  "  Is  that  you,  Ab- 
bott ?  "  he  said.  "  Come  in." 

Abbott  entered,  and  seated  himself  near  them. 

"  Don't  let  your  husband  lavish  his  care,"  he 
continued.  "  It  will  not  do  for  him  to  be  thought- 
ful and  attentive,  like  any  commonplace,  good 
husband." 

"  I  think  it  is  very  proper  for  him  to  get  my 
cloak,"  returned  Felicia,  a  trifle  aggressively. 

"  That  is  only  a  little  thing,  but  it  shows  which 
way  the  wind  blows." 

"  The  wind  seems  to  blow  every  way  to-day," 
interpolated  Kennett,  lightly. 

"  He  has,  or  has  had  up  to  this  time,  a  sort  of 
divine  right  to  immunity  from  small  cares ;  it  has 
been  his  prerogative  to  make  himself  comfort- 
able." 

"  Abbott  thinks  I  am  selfish,"  said  Kennett. 

"You  are  if  you  know  what's  good  for  you, 
and  don't  you  forget  it,"  retorted  Abbott, 
quickly. 

Felicia,  irritated  by  the  imputation  and  of- 
fended by  the  slang,  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
but  her  interest  in  the  subject  prevailed. 


200  FELICIA. 

"  Why  should  he  be  selfish  ?  "  she  asked,  stiffly. 

"  Because,  when  a  man  has  a  great  future,  he 
can't  give  himself  a  thought  too  many." 

"  Has  he  a  great  future  ?  " 

Abbott  looked  at  her  steadfastly,  then  at  his 
friend.  Kennett's  fine  gray  eyes  rested  tran- 
quilly on  Abbott's  unquiet,  expressive  face,  cut 
by  deep  lines  of  hope,  of  disappointment,  anxiety, 
excesses ;  his  eyes,  too,  were  gray,  but  eager, 
fiery,  restless,  penetrating.  The  two  men  ex- 
changed a  long  look. 

"  Well?  "  said  Kennett,  smiling. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Abbott,  shortly.  He 
turned  his  face  toward  the  stage. 

Changes  were  in  progress  there.  The  talking 
man  was  loquaciously  retiring,  looking  over  his 
shoulder.  A  lady  in  a  gray  dress  and  cloak,  and 
with  a  black  feather  in  her  hat,  had  detached  her- 
self from  the  others,  and  advanced  toward  the 
footlights.  She  glanced  about  her  hardily,  and 
shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a  show  of  contemp- 
tuous impatience  as  the  stage-manager's  prelection 
seemed  suddenly  to  take  a  new  lease,  and  he  con- 
tinued speaking.  All  at  once  he  came  to  a  stand- 
still. "  Now  there  's  your  cue,  Miss  Johnson,"  he 
said,  —  " '  Me  hopes,  me  honor,  and  me  broken 
heart ! '  Go  'n  !  "  very  peremptorily. 

She  began  to  declaim  in  the  loud,  hard  stage 
voice  which  has  so  unnatural  a  sound  in  an  empty 
theatre. 

A  man  with  a  worn  face  and  a  blase  air  had 


FELICIA.  201 

placed  himself  near  her,  and  at  his  cue  took  part 
in  one  of  those  dialogues  so  useful  as  connecting 
links  of  the  story.  Little  of  action  was  required, 
but  even  that  little  was  not  satisfactory ;  the  talk- 
ing man  found  it  desirable  several  times  to  dart 
forward  and  eagerly  correct,  explain,  and  suggest. 
At  last  there  came  a  rap  of  the  conductor's  baton, 
—  the  members  of  the  orchestra  were  tense  and 
alert  in  their  places  ;  another  rap,  —  the  dialogue 
developed  into  a  duet,  and  the  duet  was  succeeded 
by  a  chorus. 

It  had  seemed  to  Felicia  that  disproportionate 
care  and  work  were  requisite  for  individual  excel- 
lence ;  she  now  saw  that  even  more  were  neces- 
sary to  produce  a  good  ensemble  effect.  Again 
and  again  the  sharp  raps  of  the  baton  resounded 
with  a  peremptory  negative  intention,  which 
brought  a  sudden  silence,  invaded  in  a  moment 
by  the  melancholy  voice  of  the  Gallic  leader,  with 
unexpected  pauses  and  despairing  inflections. 

"  That  was  'orrible,  'orrible,  'orrible  !  "  he  said, 
definitely ;  or,  "  A  mos'  slovenly  atta.01 ! "  or, 
"  Tenors,  you  sing  a  minor  third  instead  of  a  ma- 
jor third  ;  "  or,  "  Mon  Dieu  !  Sopranos !  So- 
pranos, you  are  j#- W-a£  /  " 

When  at  last  the  chorus  was  progressing 
smoothly  Kennett  rose. 

"  Au  revoir"  he  said  to  Felicia  ;  and  she  fan- 
cied that  there  was  something  propitiatory,  even 
appealing,  in  his  expression.  Did  he  recommend 
Abbott  to  her  leniency,  and  vicariously  deprecate 
her  criticism  ? 


202  FELICIA. 

"  Now  Kennett  will  warble  O.  K.,  you  bet  your 
life,"  Abbott  said. 

He  misunderstood  the  haughty  displeasure  on 
her  face.  All  the  nicer  issues  of  social  training 
were  as  a  sealed  book  to  him.  He  did  not  dream 
that  the  rudeness  of  his  phrase  was  in  her  estima- 
tion intolerable  ;  that  she  deemed  slang  —  unless, 
indeed,  it  were  the  trick  of  expression  of  "  the 
best  people,"  and  not  fairly  to  be  called  slang  at 
all  —  an  affront  to  her  and  a  degradation  to  him. 
He  placed  his  own  interpretation  on  her  evident 
intolerance. 

"  Confound  the  little  idiot,  she  is  ashamed  of 
him ! "  he  thought,  angrily.  "  She  must  have 
married  him  in  a  freak.  She  considers  herself 
too  good  for  him.  And  he  with  the  best  voice  of 
its  class  in  America  !  " 

He  looked  at  her  resentfully. 

Her  attention  had  become  riveted  on  what  was 
in  progress  before  her.  She  had  noticed,  the 
previous  evening,  the  marked  effect  of  Kennett's 
presence  on  the  stage.  Life  was  infused  into  the 
inert  business  ;  among  the  other  singers  there  was 
sudden  alertness  of  glance  and  intention  ;  the  ac- 
tion began  to  revolve  about  him  as  if  animated  by 
his  controlling  thought ;  smoothness  and  ease  re- 
placed mere  mechanical  effort,  under  the  strong 
influence  of  an  intelligent  enthusiasm  and  a  mag- 
netic personality. 

The  manager,  at  the  back  of  the  stage,  leaned 
against  the  frame  of  the  canvas,  took  off  his  hatv 


FELICIA.  203 

mopped  his  face  with  his  handkerchief,  and  ut- 
tered an  audible  "  Whew-w  !  "  in  which  were  in- 
fused both  fatigue  and  relief.  Abbott  called  Feli- 
cia's attention  to  him. 

"The  governor  feels  easier  now  that  Kennett 
is  on.  He  's  worked  pretty  hard  to-day.  Looks 
all  tore  up,  don't  he  ?  " 

Felicia  disdained  to  say  that  the  governor  did 
or  did  not  look  "  tore  up." 

"  You  see  that  woman  with  dark  hair,  in  a 
black  dress  ?  She  is  under-studying  Miss  Brady. 
She  can  sing  if  she  only  has  a  chance.  You  bet 
your  sweet  life  she  goes  into  some  church  after 
every  rehearsal,  and  prays  God  Almighty  and 
the  saints  that  the  other  woman  may  get  run  over 
by  the  street-car  or  the  fire-engine,  or  something." 
He  looked  with  a  laugh  into  Felicia's  horror- 
stricken  eyes.  "  For  a  fact  she  does.  Told  me 
so  herself.  You  see  she  's  waiting  for  her  promo- 
tion. She  used  to  be  with  the  Vilette  Company, 
until  they  went  to  pieces  last  fall ;  then  she  "  — 

Felicia  lifted  her  hand  imperiously,  imposing 
silence.  "  He  is  going  to  sing." 

There  had  floated  upon  the  air  a  prelude  famil- 
iar to  her.  She  leaned  slightly  forward,  her  eyes 
on  him  while  he  sang,  all  unconscious  that  Ab- 
bott's eyes  were  on  her.  No  man,  especially  with 
the  soul  of  an  artist  in  him,  could  misinterpret 
that  expression  ;  her  face  was  for  the  moment 
transfigured  by  the  emotion  upon  it,  so  proud, 
so  tender,  so  absolutely  enthralling,  was  it,  —  as 
intense  and  as  delicate  as  white  fire. 


204  FELICIA. 

Abbott  looked  at  her  meditatively.  "  The 
man,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  has  got  a  big  possibil- 
ity in  the  future ;  and  the  woman  thinks  small 
beer  of  his  future,  and  don't  care  a  continental 
for  his  best  possibility  ;  and,  God  help  'em,  they 
love  each  other.  Now,  what  are  they  going  to  do 
about  it  ?  " 

He  cogitated  on  this  subject  for  some  time. 
Finally  he  rose,  left  the  box  unobserved,  and  went 
to  wait  for  his  cue  at  one  of  the  wings. 

Under  the  ethereal  fire  of  those  violet  eyes,  the 
man  with  a  possibility  in  his  future  sang  well 
that  day.  The  members  of  the  orchestra  laid 
down  their  instruments  and  applauded.  The 
stage  manager  bawled  that  it  would  be  an  easier 
world  if  there  were  more  like  him.  The  other 
singers  looked  at  him  with  eyes  animated  by  every 
degree  of  intelligent  admiration  and  appreciative 
envy.  It  seemed  to  Felicia  that  it  was  distinctly 
an  ovation  he  was  receiving ;  she  wondered  that 
adulation  had  not  spoiled  him.  She  did  not  real- 
ize that  with  a  fully  equipped  capacity  ambition 
dwarfs  possession. 

As  he  went  off,  he  encountered  Abbott  in  the 
narrow  passway  between  two  "  sets."  Each 
placed  his  hands  on  his  friend's  shoulders  and 
looked  long  into  his  eyes. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Kennett,  in  the  tone  with  which 
he  had  uttered  the  word  an  hour  before. 

"  If  this  world  does  not  offer  you  everything 
heart  can  desire  in  the  next  five  years,  it  will  be 


FELICIA.  205 

your  own  fault  —  or  your  wife's  fault !  "  cried 
Abbott,  with  the  thrill  of  sincere  feeling  in  his 
voice. 

"  I  shall  have  everything  that  heart  can  desire !  " 
exclaimed  Kennett,  airily.  "  There  's  your  cue, 
old  fellow."  And  he  went  back,  with  a  satisfied 
smile,  to  Felicia. 

He  noticed,  as  the  rehearsal  proceeded,  that 
Preston  often  looked  with  some  wistfulness  at 
their  box,  as  he  lounged  at  the  back  of  the  stage 
and  about  the  wings.  During  one  of  the  waits 
he  stood  near  them,  and  Kennett  called  him  in 
an  undertone. 

"  I  must  go  on  again  in  a  few  moments,"  he 
said  to  Felicia,  "  but  Preston  will  come  and  talk 
to  you." 

Preston  was  evidently  pleased  and  flattered, 
but  to  Felicia's  surprise  he  was  inclined  to  taci- 
turnity. He  was  bold  enough  among  men,  —  in 
fact,  he  was  sometimes  accused  of  impudence,  — 
and  not  too  gentle  and  meek  with  the  women 
with  whom  he  was  usually  thrown.  In  the  little 
world  of  the  troupe  he  was  considered  by  the  fem- 
inine members  a  singing  Adonis,  and  was  greatly 
approved ;  with  them  he  was  gay,  boisterous,  flip- 
pant. But  with  Felicia  he  was  shy.  He  was 
quick  of  perception  :  when  she  bent  her  violet 
eyes  upon  him  and  allowed  her  gracious  smile  to 
rest  on  her  lips,  he  apprehended  that  the  gentle 
demonstration  was  merely  a  surface  effect ;  it  was 
not  the  flattering;  and  flattered  smile  he  was  accus- 


206  FELICIA. 

tomed  to  receive.  He  appreciated  the  dignity 
underlying  the  soft  exterior  of  her  manner,  and 
realized  that  she  probably  had  a  distinct  ideal  of 
the  proper  thing  to  be  and  to  feel,  to  which  he 
might  not  altogether  conform.  This  sort  of  influ- 
ence makes  many  a  man  restive  and  defiant,  and 
it  is  to  Oliver  Preston's  credit  that  he  was  a  trifle 
timid  and  propitiatory. 

Their  conversation,  constrained  at  first,  grew 
gradually  more  easy.  She  drew  him  on  to  talk 
of  himself.  She  saw  presently  that  he  was  not 
by  any  means  so  young  as  his  boyish  manner 
and  regular,  delicate  features  made  him  seem. 
With  her  alert  interest  in  the  vivid  drama  of  life 
and  character,  she  speculated  on  this  existence 
of  his,  and  the  strange  fact  that  excitement  and 
variety  do  not  make  the  inroads  on  mind  and 
body  which  are  compassed  by  inaction  and  tran- 
quillity. He  had  happened  to  mention  that  he 
was  thirty-two  years  old.  "  At  that  age  men  in 
little  country  towns  are  advancing  into  middle 
life,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  while  he  has  the  buoy- 
ancy, and  to  all  intents  the  youthfulness,  of 
twenty." 

After  a  time  she  was  struck  by  something  un- 
feeling in  his  tone,  —  the  more  objectionable  in 
that  he  was  unconscious  of  it.  When  the  contralto 
was  sharply  reprimanded  for  a  mistake  in  a  short 
interjectionary  phrase,  which  threw  the  other  sing- 
ers out  and  necessitated  repetition,  he  laughed 
with  genuine  gusto  that  she  should  become  con- 


FELICIA.  207 

fused,  blunder  again,  then  dash  at  her  phrase  with 
ludicrous  precipitancy.  "What  a  fool!"  he  said, 
contemptuously.  "  And  flat  besides." 

He  listened  with  great  attention  while  Abbott 
sang  a  solo,  and  said  at  its  close :  — 

"  Abbott  will  never  get  much  further  than  he 
has  already  gone.  He  is  limited,"  he  added,  with 
a  certain  complacence. 

"  I  think  he  has  a  very  beautiful  voice,"  re- 
marked Felicia. 

He  reflected  a  moment. 

"  Yes,  it  is  sympathetic  and  true,  and  it  has  a 
vibrating  quality,  but  it  is  uneven ;  both  the  upper 
and  lower  registers  are  better  than  the  middle. 
Then  he  works  spasmodically ;  he  is  kept  down 
by  his  habits.  Sometimes  he  does  pretty  well  for 
a  while  ;  then  he  '11  take  to  drinking.  He  drinks 
like  a  fish.  And  he  gambles;  and  that  keeps  him 
'poor  as  Job's  turkey,  as  he  often  says  himself. 
He  always  has  hard  luck  and  he  always  expects  a 
streak  of  good  luck.  So  he  is  continually  in  a 
state  of  anxiety  and  agitation.  And  that  is  very 
bad  for  the  voice.  He  used  to  be  ambitious.  He 
used  to  think  he  would  make  a  great  success,  but 
I  believe  he  has  given  up  all  hope  for  that  now." 

"  Oh-h  !  "  exclaimed  Felicia,  regretfully. 

"Abbott  says,"  continued  Preston,  "when  he 
sees  how  Kennett  is  running  for  the  cup,  he  feels 
like  a  man  who  has  been  buried  alive.  He  says, 
though,  he  wants  Kennett  to  win  the  race.  That 
is  what  he  would  do  if  he  could  get  out  from 
under  the  ground." 


208  FELICIA. 

This  figure  of  a  despairing  and  buried  ambi- 
tion, and  this  wistful  and  generous  acceptance  of 
an  humble  share  in  another  man's  triumph,  de- 
nied to  him,  touched  Felicia.  She  looked  with 
meditative  pity  at  Abbott's  ugly,  expressive  face, 
with  its  spent  fires  and  spoiled  purposes.  His 
melodious  voice  was  at  its  best  in  the  soft  melan- 
choly of  love-songs ;  he  was  singing  a  serenade 
now,  and  the  building  was  filled  with  the  insistent 
iteration  of  tender  strains. 

"  '  Buried  alive,'  "  she  repeated.  "  I  think  it  is 
very  sad  that  he  should  feel  that." 

"  I  think  it  is  very  funny,"  said  Preston,  with 
a  rich  ha !  ha !  He  really  thought  so.  Tragedy 
of  feeling  was,  in  his  opinion,  good  stuff  to  act ; 
as  to  sympathizing  with  a  man's  heart-break,  how 
could  he  understand  a  language  as  foreign  to  him 
as  if  spoken  by  the  inhabitants  of  Jupiter  or 
Mars?  He  lived  in  another  world. 

"  Why  does  he  drink,  then  ?  "  he  asked,  after 
a  pause,  as  if  realizing  that  something  deeper  was 
expected  of  him,  and  vaguely  defending  himself. 
"  No  fellow  pays  him  anything  for  drinking." 

He  was  regaining  his  usual  mental  attitude, 
which  was  a  trifle  dictatorial  and  tyrannical,  as 
that  of  a  spoiled  young  fellow  is  apt  to  be. 
When  he  presently  went  on,  he  said  in  a  grum- 
bled aside  to  Abbott  that  Kennett  had  all  the 
luck,  got  all  the  plums,  —  a  big  salary,  and  man- 
agers always  patting  him  on  the  back,  and  now 
marrying  "  a  tip-top  woman  like  that." 


FELICIA.  209 

As  the  rehearsal  drew  toward  its  close,  a  marked 
change  was  perceptible  in  the  spirit  of  the  per- 
formers. An  air  of  great  fatigue  had  come  upon 
them,  and  the  lassitude  which  accompanies  con- 
tinuous and  exhausting  effort  of  brain  and  body. 
With  the  physical  break-down  the  moral  supports 
gave  way ;  they  were  evidently  as  cross  as  they 
dared  to  be.  The  stage-manager  was  more  eager, 
excited,  and  far  more  impatient  than  when  the 
morning's  work  began.  The  conductor  some- 
times laid  down  the  baton,  rubbed  with  both  sin- 
ewy hands  the  wisps  of  scanty  hair  on  each  side 
of  his  brow,  took  off  his  spectacles,  replaced  them, 
and  resumed  the  baton  with  a  loud,  long  sigh. 
Of  the  singers,  Kennett  only  was  unharassed. 
"  I  suppose  that  is  part  of  his  system  of  '  running 
for  the  cup,'  "  thought  Felicia. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  the  performers  took  plea- 
sure in  annoying  each  other,  and  presently  this 
theory  received  confirmation.  One  of  the  chorus 
—  a  small  girl,  with  a  dainty  figure,  a  pert  face, 
black  hair,  and  a  somewhat  conspicuous  dress  of 
red  and  black  plaid  —  had  been  more  than  once 
called  sharply  to  order  for  inattention.  After  the 
last  of  these  episodes,  as  the  music,  which  was  in 
valse  time,  recommenced,  she  defiantly  placed  her 
arms  akimbo,  tossed  her  head  saucily,  and  began 
to  balance  herself  with  the  perfunctory  dance- 
steps  which,  with  appropriate  costumes,  serve  for 
the  ball-room  illusion  in  the  modern  light  opera. 
She  looked  mischievously  at  the  tenors  near  her, 


210 


FELICIA. 


and  a  few  of  the  younger  men  laughed,  but  the 
others  discreetly  kept  their  eyes  before  them,  and 
forbore  to  smile.  The  manager,  in  a  rage,  stopped 
the  orchestra,  and  advanced  upon  her  with  an  oath 
that  was  like  a  roar. 

"  Quit  that  damned  monkeying !  "  He  caught 
her  arm  and  thrust  her  back  to  her  place ;  then, 
as  he  turned,  a  sudden  thought  struck  him.  He 
wheeled  abruptly,  and,  with  a  grotesque  imitation 
of  her  attitude,  ludicrously  caricatured  her  dan- 
cing. She  shrank  back,  blushing  and  discomfited, 
as  a  peal  of  appreciative  laughter  rewarded  the 
managerial  pleasantry. 

When  he  had  advanced  upon  the  girl  with  that 
loud  oath,  Felicia  had  cowered  as  if  herself  threat- 
ened by  a  blow.  She  glanced  at  the  other  men, 
in  expectation  of  their  interference.  Abbott's 
mouth  was  distorted  by  an  abnormal  grin.  Ken- 
nett  was  looking  with  a  contemptuous  smile  from 
the  absurdly  dancing  manager  to  the  equally  ab- 
surd victim.  Preston's  handsome  head  was  thrown 
back ;  his  white  teeth  gleamed  under  his  black 
mustache,  while  the  building  echoed  with  his  de- 
lighted laughter. 

The  chorus  was  the  last  work  of  the  day,  and 
as  Kennett  rejoined  his  wife  he  found  her  standing 
at  the  entrance  of  the  box  with  brilliant  cheeks 
and  flashing  eyes. 

"Why  didn't  you  strike  him,  Hugh?  Why 
did  n't  you  knock  him  down  ?  "  she  cried,  impul- 
sively. 


FELICIA.  211 

"  Who  ?  "  he  demanded,  in  amaze. 

"  That  man,  —  that  stage-manager." 

"  For  what  ?  "  he  asked,  completely  at  sea. 

"For  swearing  at  that  girl,  and  pushing  her, 
and  mocking  her." 

He  looked  at  her  in  silence. 

"  Felicia,"  said  Hugh  Kennett  at  last,  with  a 
long-drawn  breath,  "  I  would  not  imperil  my  pros- 
pects by  striking  a  stage-manager  for  the  sake  of 
any  chorus-girl  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

She  thought  at  the  moment  that  this  was  cruel 
and  selfish  to  the  last  degree. 


XL 

WITH  something  of  the  spirit,  the  serious  ab- 
sorption, the  singleness  of  aim,  the  intensity,  the 
concentration,  which  animate  the  student  in  pur- 
suit of  learning,  or  the  man  of  affairs  in  the  con- 
duct of  enterprise,  Felicia  entered  upon  the  un- 
tried phase  of  her  dual  life  ;  her  role  was  now 
that  of  the  singer's  wife.  She  familiarized  her- 
self with  the  details  of  her  husband's  work.  She 
accompanied  him  to  every  rehearsal  and  every 
pei'formance.  She  promised  herself  that  she 
would  not  permit  extraneous  matters  to  assume 
an  importance  which  did  not  of  right  attach  to 
them.  Money,  luxury,  society,  congenial  associa- 
tion, —  these  were  merely  accessories,  unimpor- 
tant compared  with  the  great  fundamental  fact  of 
duty.  She  told  herself  that  she  had  no  right  to 
come  into  his  life,  aware  of  its  incongruities,  and 
injure  his  future.  As  to  the  worthiness  of  his 
career  as  a  career,  who  was  to  judge?  She  ac- 
knowledged the  artificialities  of  her  standards  ; 
she  admitted  to  herself  that  if  the  world  —  her 
world  —  held  his  vocation  in  as  high  esteem  as  the 
law,  medicine,  literature,  politics,  the  army,  the 
navy,  she  would  not  object  to  the  thing  itself. 
As  to  the  influences,  he  had  become  what  he  was 


FELICIA.  213 

perhaps  in  spite  of  them,  but  certainly  subjected 
to  them.  She  would  not  be  petty-minded,  she  de- 
clared. The  man  had  a  gift  and  an  ideal;  she 
would  help  him  conserve  the  one  and  attain  the 
other.  She  would  control  her  exacting  taste ; 
after  all,  taste  should  be  a  useful  servant,  not  a 
tyrannical  master.  She  would  see  deeper  than 
the  surface  of  Bohemianism,  into  the  lives  of 
these  people  with  whom  she  was  surrounded,  — 
their  pathos,  their  struggle,  their  strength,  their 
fervor.  She  had  known  life  in  one  phase  only, 
so  far  ;  she  would  know  it  in  another,  widely  dif- 
ferent. In  the  contemplation  of  these  new  con- 
ditions she  would  grow  wiser  and  stronger,  clearer 
of  vision,  more  calm  of  pm-pose,  more  tender  of 
heart ;  development  was  her  duty  as  well  as  his. 

It  was  dreary  work.  All  her  natural  instincts 
and  the  strong  effects  of  her  education  were  mar- 
shaled against  her  will.  She  could  not  always 
recognize  and  adequately  gauge  excellence  of 
achievement,  she  had  not  reached  the  very  vesti- 
bule of  the  great  temple  of  art ;  yet  she  was  con- 
stantly incited  to  revolt  when  she  was  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  spectacle  of  warped  sensi- 
bilities, solecisms  of  manner,  the  grinding  and  be- 
littling influences  of  a  desperate  struggle  for  pre- 
cedence and  a  constant  contention  for  place.  She 
saw  much  selfish  scheming,  much  infirmity  of  tem- 
per, much  envy  and  jealousy.  These  people  were 
banded  together  by  a  common  interest,  —  the  suc- 
cess of  the  troupe;  they  were  opposed  to  each 


214  FELICIA. 

other  by  the  intense  antagonisms  of  professional 
rivalry.  That  any  should  not  succeed  injured  the 
others,  yet  each  grudged  every  round  of  applause 
as  the  deprivation  of  a  vested  right.  Thus  capaci- 
ties which  would  appear  to  admit  of  no  compari- 
son were  bitterly  contrasted  :  the  contralto  hated 
the  tenor  because  of  his  encore  for  the  love-song, 
and  the  basso  could  not  forgive  the  soprano  for 
the  trippingness  of  her  execution.  The  chival- 
rous instinct  seemed  dead  among  the  men,  who 
were  as  envious  and  small-minded  as  the  women  ; 
the  instinct  of  conciliation  seemed  lacking  among 
the  women,  who  were  as  assertive  and  antagonistic 
as  the  men.  It  was  an  army  vigorously  at  war 
with  the  enemy  while  torn  by  internal  conflict. 
For  them  to  indulge  in  the  tender  and  ennobling 
luxuries  of  generosity  and  self-abnegation  was  to 
bare  the  throat  to  a  willing  sabre  close  at  hand, 
without  waiting  for  the  possible  minie-ball  of  the 
public  a  little  later.  To  rise  above  such  a  mental 
and  moral  plane  was,  through  exceptional  gifts 
and  the  tyranny  of  a  life  dedication,  to  grow  by 
slow  and  painful  degrees  to  the  state  of  facile 
princeps  among  them. 

Kennett,  somewhat  indefinitely  apprehending 
the  maze  of  conflicting  emotions  which  possessed 
her,  had,  with  some  eagerness,  asked  her  impres- 
sions of  that  first  rehearsal. 

"You  found  it  very  entertaining,  did  you  not?" 
he  said,  in  the  tone  of  one  who  would  fain  con- 
strain a  favorable  opinion. 


FELICIA.  215 

Yes,  she  had  found  it  very  entertaining. 

"  You  are  interested  in  human  nature,"  he  con- 
tinued, in  the  same  spirit.  "  You  like  to  study 
people,  and  think  you  understand  your  fellow- 
creatures.  Can  you  analyze  those  two  men  to 
whom  you  were  talking  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Felicia,  meditatively,  "  that 
Mr.  Abbott  is  a  kindly  disposed  man,  but  he  can 
do  and  say  very  unkind  things.  He  pines  to 
make  other  people  suffer  with  him.  '  I  will  burn, 
thou  shalt  sizzle,'  —  that 's  Mr.  Abbott's  motto." 

Kennett  thought  this  over  in  silence  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  Rather  a  good  guess,"  he  admitted. 
"  And  Preston  ?  " 

She  laughed.  "  Preston  is  —  Preston"  she 
said  ;  "  and  so  are  all  philosophies,  and  creeds, 
and  arts,  and  sciences,  —  all  Preston.  If  this 
city  and  the  troupe  were  swallowed  in  an  earth- 
quake, what  would  he  care,  if  he  were  left ! 
There  are  other  cities  with  opera-houses,  and 
other  troupes  in  need  of  a  basso,  and  other  friends 
to  b,e  had  for  the  asking.  That  is  Preston." 

Kennett  had  become  grave.  "  Felicia,"  he  said, 
"  your  insight  is  almost  terrible." 

"  There  was  at  any  rate  one  interesting  person 
on  that  stage  to-day,"  declared  Felicia,  suddenly. 
" That  mezzo-soprano ;  don:t  you  remember?  She 
is  intelligent  and  gentle.  She  has  a  nice  face." 

He  looked  at  her  with  slightly  raised  eyebrows. 
"  She  is  Mrs.  Branner,"  he  remarked.  He  was 
silent  a  moment ;  then,  with  a  slight  laugh,  "  I 


216  FELICIA. 

take  back  what  I  said.  You  have  no  insight  at 
all." 

In  this  life  of  his  before  the  public,  Kennett 
was  much  like  a  man  on  a  trapeze  :  every  mo- 
ment was  a  crisis.  However  strong  a  matter  of 
feeling  might  be,  other  importunate  considera- 
tions pressed  rival  claims  which  could  not  be  put 
off  or  lightly  estimated.  Thus  it  was  that  he  did 
not  entirely  apprehend  the  complication  of  mo- 
tives which  induced  Felicia  to  offer  to  play  the 
accompaniment,  one  day  when  he  was  about  to 
practice.  He  agreed,  after  a  scarcely  perceptible 
hesitation,  and  relinquished  the  piano-stool. 

From  an  amateur  standpoint  she  played  very 
well.  She  had  facility,  a  sympathetic  touch,  and 
was  a  fairly  good  timist.  But  in  music  there  is  a 
wide  gulf  between  the  average  amateur  and  the 
average  professional.  The  perfect  exactitude,  the 
delicate  machine-work,  requisite  for  an  acceptable 
accompaniment  were  lacking.  He  endured  it  for 
a  time  ;  then,  with  a  comical  look  of  despair,  he 
clutched  at  his  hair  as  if  tearing  an  invisible  wig, 
and  swept  her  from  the  stool. 

"  The  little  public  must  continue  to  adorn  the 
proscenium  box,"  he  said,  "  for  she  is  not  a  suc- 
cess as  an  orchestra." 

"I  had  thought  of  practicing,"  declared  Felicia, 
ruefully.  "  I  had  an  idea  of  playing  your  accom- 
paniments." 

"It  is  not  worth  while  to  undertake  all  that 
drudgery,"  he  returned. 


FELICIA.  217 

He  was  more  interested,  since  it  was  more  defi- 
nitely in  his  own  line,  when  she  said,  some  days 
later,  that  she  contemplated  taking  up  singing. 
"  Only  for  amusement,"  she  added,  quickly.  Once 
she  would  not  have  felt  thus  humbly  as  to  her  ac- 
complishments, but  she  had  by  this  time  discov- 
ered the  wild  absurdity  embodied  in  the  pleasing 
delusion  indulged  in  by  the  show  pupils  of  the 
fashionable  boarding-schools,  —  the  delusion  that 
in  point  of  musical  merit  their  natural  voices  and 
their  culture  would  enable  them  to  vie  with  the 
lady  in  white  satin  and  diamonds,  charming  an 
audience  before  the  footlights. 

He  tried  her  voice  and  put  her  through  several 
songs  in  various  styles.  He  said  she  had  a  good 
soprano,  not  remarkable  for  compass ;  light,  but 
even  and  pleasant  in  quality.  He  added,  how- 
ever, that,  to  do  anything  worth  mentioning,  she 
must  elaborately  unlearn  all  that  she  had  ac- 
quired as  a  "  show  society  pupil "  from  Signer 
Biancionelli ;  she  must  begin  at  the  beginning, 
and  build  up  a  training  from  the  very  foundation- 
stones.  He  offered  to  teach  her  himself,  if  she 
liked  ;  no  doubt  she  would  do  pretty  well,  by  dint 
of  working  hard. 

"  You  see  you  have  not  been  taught  to  sing," 
he  explained,  lucidly ;  "  you  have  only  learned, 
after  a  fashion,  some  songs." 

She  said,  unconsciously  repeating  his  phrase, 
that  it  was  hardly  worth  while  to  go  through  so 
much  drudgery. 


218  FELICIA. 

Often,  sitting  alone  in  the  box,  she  took 
thought  of  her  own  position.  What  was  she  to 
do  with  her  life  ?  she  asked  herself.  She  could 
not  fully  share  his,  —  that  was  evident.  She 
could  not  be  useful  as  incentive,  as  support.  He 
did  not  need  her.  He  stood  alone.  She  could 
not  absorb  herself  in  his  pursuits  ;  she  was  nei- 
ther fitted  nor  schooled.  She  could  not  absorb 
herself  in  pursuits  of  her  own.  In  what  line  was 
she  equipped?  In  none  more  definitely  than  in 
music ;  in  any  she  would  need  preliminary  train- 
ing. "  And  one  does  not  begin  at  twenty-three," 
she  reflected.  "When  I  was  made  to  study  so 
much,  why  was  I  not  taught  something  ?  "  She 
did  not  formulate  the  theory,  but  she  appreciated 
it  as  a  fact  that  now,  under  the  influence  of  strong 
feeling,  groping  among  foreign  conditions  for  the 
solution  of  the  serious  problems  of  her  life,  the 
heavy  and  uninteresting  details  of  preparatory 
drudgery,  without  the  support,  as  incentive,  of 
an  ultimate  object  and  a  controlling  talent,  would 
be  as  impossible  to  her  as  the  aimless  and  desul- 
tory distraction  of  fancy-work  and  novel-reading. 
As  to  other  absorptions  which  claim  the  attention 
of  many  women,  —  charities,  hospitals,  educa- 
tional movements,  —  pursuits  which  might  be 
called  community  interests,  she  had  heard  so 
vaguely,  if  at  all,  of  these  channels  of  thought 
and  endeavor  that  they  represented  a  world  as 
completely  removed  from  her  ken  as  this  world 
of  musical  life  had  once  been,  and  they  could  of 


FELICIA.  219 

necessity  offer  her  no  suggestion  ;  it  might  be 
doubted,  too,  if  hers  was  of  the  natures  which  find 
their  expression  in  community  interests. 

And  again,  what  was  she  to  do  with  her  life, — 
not  that  full-pulsed  existence  of  emotion  which 
had  absorbed  her,  but  this  other  imperative  indi- 
viduality which  was,  day  by  day,  more  definitely 
pushing  its  demands,  —  her  intentions,  her  time, 
her  idle  energy  ?  Was  it  possible  to  live  entirely 
in  the  contemplation  of  another's  life,  which  yet 
she  could  not  share  ;  to  relinquish  a  thoroughly 
vital  entity  for  a  passive  acquiescence,  for  an  utter 
aloofness  ?  This  was  hardly  life  at  all ;  it  was  al- 
most annihilation ;  it  was  a  sort  of  self-murder, 
thus  to  destroy  her  identity.  "  Does  it  die  hard, 
I  wonder,  one's  identity  ?  "  she  thought,  a  little 
wistful,  a  little  appalled. 

And  Kennett  was  very  intent  that  the  exacting 
public  should  be  more  than  satisfied.  What  duty 
was  so  obvious  as  that  the  balancing-pole  should 
be  in  readiness,  the  rope  stretched  tightly?  When 
a  man's  professional  existence  is  at  stake,  it  be- 
hooves him  to  have  his  faculties  and  all  the  appli- 
ances at  command.  This  allegro  requires  a  trifle 
more  of  fire  ;  there  should  be  a  rallentando  here ; 
and  here  the  sentiment  calls  for  a  tendresse, 
which  must  be  given  with  an  "  out-breathed  ef- 
fect ; "  and  ah,  gracious  powers  !  the  brasses  must 
be  softened  in  that  passage  ! 

Up  to  this  time  the  callers  at  the  box  had  been 
the  gentlemen  of  the  troupe.  Abbott  and  Pres- 


220  FELICIA. 

ton  had  come  in  frequently  ;  one  day  Kennett  had 
introduced  Whitmarsh,  a  showy  blond  English- 
man, oppressively  friendly  with  him,  and  so  pro- 
pitiatory to  her  that  she  deduced  the  fact  that  he 
must  dislike  Hugh  very  much  indeed.  Several 
times  the  manager  of  the  company  had  sat  with 
her  half  an  hour  or  so,  and  once  he  had  taken  her 
behind  the  scenes,  and  explained  the  mechanism 
of  ropes  and  pulleys,  and  the  big  "  sets "  and 
flies.  He  was  as  different  from  her  preconceived 
idea  of  a  theatrical  manager  as  he  well  could  be  : 
a  quiet  man,  with  a  wife  and  six  children  at  home. 
He  once  showed  her  their  photographs,  and  was 
inclined  to  be  homesick  when  he  came  to  that  of 
the  year-old  baby,  a  chubby  fellow-citizen,  whose 
portentous  frown  was  the  most  conspicuous  fea- 
ture of  the  picture. 

One  morning  she  had  a  new  caller,  a  lady. 
She  glanced  up  at  a  sound  behind  her,  and  saw, 
hesitating  at  the  door  of  the  box,  the  Mrs.  Bran- 
ner  who  had  earlier  attracted  her  attention. 

"  May  I  come  in  and  talk  to  you  a  little  ? " 
asked  the  stranger. 

Felicia's  instinct  for  politeness  was  the  strong- 
est and  the  most  carefully  cultivated  instinct  of 
her  nature. 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy,"  she  said  with  cordial- 
ity, and  the  visitor  entered  and  seated  herself. 

Mrs.  Branner  had  a  very  soft  and  gentle  man- 
ner, —  so  soft  and  gentle  as  to  suggest  the  purring 
of  a  cat.  There  was  something  feline  about  her 


FELICIA.  221 

face :  her  mouth  was  large,  and  had  a  tendency 
to  curve  upward  at  the  corners  ;  her  face  was 
wide  and  short ;  her  eyes  were  gray,  and  she  had 
a  habit  of  narrowing  them.  Yet  she  was  dis- 
tinctly a  pretty  woman  :  her  complexion  was  de- 
lightful in  its  warm  fairness ;  her  nose  was 
straight  and  delicate  ;  her  eyebrows  and  lashes 
were  dark  ;  she  had  dense  fair  hair,  and  was  tall 
and  graceful. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  taken  a  liberty,  but  I 
want  so  much  to  know  you,"  she  said,  with  a  man- 
ner of  much  simplicity  and  candor;  her  face  was 
very  sweet  when  she  smiled.  "I  hope  you  are 
not  lonely.  I  am  told  that  you  are  far  away 
from  your  own  people,  and  new  to  all  this.  I 
hope  you  like  it." 

It  had  been  so  long  since  Felicia  had  heard  any 
woman,  except  an  Irish  or  German  hotel  cham- 
bermaid, speak  to  her  that  this  tone  of  sympathy, 
of  fellowship,  this  sudden  reverting  to  an  element 
which  she  had  supposed  she  prized  but  slightly, 
friendship  with  her  own  sex,  almost  overcame  her. 
Her  voice  faltered  as  she  replied  :  — 

"  Not  exactly  lonely,  but  a  little  —  well, 
strange." 

*'  I  can  imagine  it.  Now,  as  for  me,  I  have 
known  nothing  else.  Since  I  can  remember  I 
have  been  on  the  stage." 

"  Do  you  like  the  life?"  asked  Felicia. 

Mrs.  Branner  shook  her  head. 

"  It  is,  a  terrible  life.     I  saw  once  in  a  book  or 


222  FELICIA. 

a  newspaper  that  the  stage  is  like  a  vampire :  so 
much  feigning  deprives  one  of  one's  own  nature, 
as  a  vampire  sucks  the  blood." 

Felicia  thought  it  denoted  delicacy  of  feeling  to 
realize  this.  She  looked  attentively  at  her  new 
acquaintance.  It  was  an  odd,  intelligent  face, 
she  fancied,  expressing  sensitiveness. 

To  measure  the  silent  potent  influences  of  cir- 
cumstances on  character  and  intellect  is  a  feat 
that  can  be  accomplished  only  vaguely  and  clum- 
sily by  results.  In  the  last  year  Felicia  had  ex- 
perienced a  wide  range  of  emotions :  she  had 
sounded  the  depths  of  her  own  heart ;  she  had 
undergone  the  strong  shock  of  severing  abruptly 
all  the  close  ties,  associations,  and  traditions  she 
had  ever  known ;  she  was  even  yet  entangled  in 
the  complicated  web  of  thought  and  sentiment 
involved  in  adjusting  herself  to  a  new  and  diffi- 
cult situation ;  having  been  the  active  and  con- 
trolling centre  of  her  world,  she  had  become  the 
passive  spectator  of  a  world  of  outside  life,  in 
which  she  had  no  part,  and  for  which  she  could 
discover  no  substitute ;  and  she  was  still  in  the 
thrall  of  the  most  imperative  and  intense  feeling 
of  which  she  was  capable. 

Perhaps  she  was  thus  an  illustration  of  the 
theory  that  the  possibilities  of  the  emotional  na- 
ture are  cultivated  at  the  expense  of  the  attri- 
butes of  the  intellect;  perhaps  the  simpler  ex- 
planation involved  in  the  fact  of  the  loneliness 
induced  by  her  semi-isolation  was  the  correct  ex- 


FELICIA. 

planation.  Certainly  her  judgment  was  much  at 
fault.  A  year  ago  she  would  have  seen,  as  now, 
that  Mrs.  Branner's  was  an  intelligent  face,  but 
she  would  not  have  credited  it  with  sensitiveness ; 
she  would  have  detected  the  artificiality  lurking 
beneath  the  purring  manner ;  she  would  have 
known  intuitively  that  the  visitor  was  playing  a 
part,  very  nicely,  very  prettily,  —  the  part  to 
which  she  had  become  so  habituated  that  it  was 
indeed  almost  second  nature,  and  the  most  insidi- 
ously attractive  she  could  assume,  but  still  and 
always  playing. 

Felicia  discovered  nothing.  She  entered  with 
flattering  zeal  upon  the  topics  that  presented 
themselves,  —  a  wide  range,  from  the  plot  of  the 
opera,  playwriting  in  general,  acting  and  actors, 
music,  orchestral  and  lyric,  down  to  fancy  -  work 
and  even  the  fashions.  This  last  solecism  would 
have  been  impossible  to  her  a  year  before.  But 
with  the  sudden  drifting  into  the  current  of  femi- 
nine interests  and  feeling,  her  fastidious  taste 
loosed  its  hold. 

Kennett,  looking  on  from  the  stage,  marveled 
that  she  should  have  become  so  animated :  she 
was  talking  vivaciously,  eagerly,  almost  convul- 
sively ;  she  laughed  out  gleefully,  and  caught  her- 
self like  a  child  at  school.  When  Mrs.  Branner 
had  left  her,  she  sat  watching  the  proceedings 
with  smiling  eyes.  Kennett  had  little  to  say 
when  he  joined  his  wife,  and  they  returned  to  the 
hotel.  "  Yes,  yes,"  he  admitted,  with  a  shade  of 


224  FELICIA. 

impatience  in  his  voice,  "  Mrs.  Branner  seems  to 
be  very  pleasant." 

"  It  is  so  delightful  to  meet  an  agreeable  wo- 
man," declared  Felicia.  "  I  did  n't  appreciate 
that  there  is  such  a  sameness  in  having  only  men 
acquaintances.  When  I  was  a  girl,"  she  went  on, 
maturely,  "  I  did  n't  care  much  for  other  women. 
I  was  interested  principally  in  the  adorers." 

"  And  now,  having  a  permanent  adorer,  it  is 
the  other  way,  I  suppose,"  he  remarked,  a  little 
absently. 

"  And  was  n't  it  an  odd  coincidence,"  cried  Fe- 
licia, removing  her  head-gear,  and  looking  at  it 
with  an  animated  srnile,  "  that  we  should  be 
dressed  almost  exactly  alike? — she  noticed  it, 
too,  —  black  dresses,  and  black  bonnets,  and  old- 
gold  ribbons.  She  noticed  it,  too  !  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  wear  that  color ! "  he 
exclaimed,  impatiently.  "  I  detest  it,  and  it  is 
very  unbecoming  to  you." 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "  Well,  don't 
be  cross  about  it,"  she  said,  coaxingly.  "  I  will 
not  wear  it  if  you  dislike  it.  It  is  rather  extrava- 
gant to  throw  away  this  picot  ribbon,''  she  added, 
surveying  the  garniture  of  her  bonnet.  "  1  wish 
I  had  known  of  your  antipathy  before  I  bought 
it." 

"And  have  this  thing  re-lined,"  he  resumed, 
irritably,  opening  her  parasol,  looking  at  it  sourly, 
and  giving  it  a  flip  that  sent  it  sailing  across  the 
room  and  lauded  it  neatly  on  the  sofa. 


FELICIA.  225 

Felicia  was  still  contemplating  the  ribbons. 
"  They  need  n't  be  wasted,  after  all !  "  she  de- 
clared, as  if  making  a  valuable  discovery.  "I 
can  use  them  in  a  crazy-quilt.  How  I  used  to 
laugh  at  Amy's  crazy-quilt !  Did  I  ever  think  I 
should  condescend  to  artistic  patchwork  !  Mrs. 
Branner  promised  to  show  me  exactly  how  to  do 
it.  She  thinks  it  perfectly  fascinating  !  " 

He  controlled  himself.  He  did  not  say  "  Con- 
found Mrs.  Branner !  "  until  after  he  had  shut  the 
door. 

Then,  as  he  tramped  down  the  hall,  he  realized 
that  he  was  unreasonable.  He  could  not  wipe 
out  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  and  Mrs.  Bran- 
ner might  elect  to  wear  Felicia's  favorite  gray  or 
violet  to-morrow.  As  to  the  noble  science  of 
crazy-quilting,  it  would  survive  his  displeasure, 
and  long  serve  as  a  tie  between  the  sane  and 
gifted  mortals  who  affect  it. 

He  watched  in  silent  exasperation  the  acquaint- 
ance progress.  Mrs.  Branner  came  into  the  box 
every  morning,  to  beguile  the  tedium  of  the  long 
rehearsals.  Twice  she  called  at  the  hotel.  On 
both  occasions  Felicia  chanced  to  be  out,  but  she 
said  she  intended  to  return  these  calls.  One  after- 
noon, as  Kennett  stood  in  the  reading-room,  he  saw 
the  two  coming  together  down  the  street.  They 
were  talking  earnestly,  and  did  not  observe  him. 
They  parted  at  the  door,  and  Felicia  entered  the 
hotel.  He  lingered,  looking  out  aimlessly;  pres- 
ently, however,  he  took  his  way  upstairs. 


226  FELICIA. 

Felicia  had  removed  her  hat  and  light  wrap, 
and  was  sitting  beside  the  open  window.  Spring 
had  come  at  last,  distinctly  and  definitely,  —  evi- 
dently with  the  intention  of  staying.'  There  was 
a  soft  relaxation  in  the  air.  The  golden  sunlight 
sifted  down  from  an  infinitely  dainty  blue  sky. 
The  gentle  breeze,  bringing  the  pleasant  breath 
of  moisture,  brought  also  the  odor  of  cigar-smoke, 
and  the  roll  of  carriages  passing  swiftly  on  the 
way  to  and  from  the  park,  and  the  cries  of  boys 
with  the  evening  papers.  Through  the  foliage, 
vividly  y«t  delicately  green,  in  the  square  opposite 
the  hotel,  the  chattering  English  sparrows  flitted; 
sometimes  the  voices  of  children  arose,  also  chat- 
teringly,  from  the  walks  beneath.  A  big  bronze 
figure  looked  down,  with  inscrutable  eyes,  from 
its  pedestal.  Despite  the  softness,  the  revivifying 
influence  of  the  season  was  asserting  itself.  The 
prosaic  duty  of  living  was  all  at  once  metamor- 
phosed into  a  privilege,  and  one's  dearest  desires 
assumed  the  aspect  of  a  friendly  possibility.  Fe- 
licia was  under  this  benignant  vernal  spell  as  she 
gazed  out  dreamily  at  the  changing  pageantry  of 
the  street  below.  She  did  not  turn  her  head  as 
Kennett  entered. 

"  Come  and  sit  by  the  window,"  she  said  j  "  it 
is  such  a  lovely  day." 

He  crossed  the  room,  but  instead  of  taking  a 
chair  he  stood  leaning  against  the  window-frame 
and  looking  down  at  her.  He  could  not  have 
made  even  an  unreasonable  objection  to  the  color 


FELICIA.  227 

she  was  wearing  to-day,  —  a  delicate  fawn-tinted 
costume,  in  several  "  tones,"  as  the  fashion  experts 
say.  The  fabric,  a  light  woolen  goods,  fell  in  soft 
folds  about  her;  the  shade  brought  out  the  ex- 
treme fairness  of  her  complexion,  and  deepened 
the  color  of  her  eyes  and  lips ;  her  cheeks  were 
flushed  ;  she  had  a  bunch  of  creamy  Marechal 
Niel  rosebuds  in  her  hand,  and  had  fastened  oth- 
ers in  the  bosom  of  her  dress. 

"Well?"  she  said,  glancing  up  as  he  hesitated. 

"  Well,"  he  began,  "  I  want  to  make  a  sugges- 
tion. Were  you  out  with  Mrs.  Branner  this  af- 
ternoon ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Felicia,  vivaciously.  "  We 
went  shopping.  Would  n't  you  like  to  see  what 
I  bought  ?  "  with  swift  generosity. 

He  detained  her  with  a  gesture,  as  she  was 
about  to  rise.  "  No,  not  now."  He  had  been 
sufficiently  impressed  by  the  fact  that  the  univer- 
sal dictum  as  to  the  extravagance  of  young  ladies 
of  her  station  is  not  idle  caviling,  —  if  the  class 
must  be  judged  by  Felicia.  It  was  not  that  she 
spent  money  from  ostentation  or  because  she  had 
many  needs,  but  merely  because  she  could  not 
help  it.  To  buy  whatever  struck  her  fancy 
seemed  to  her  as  reasonable  as  to  inhale  the 
breath  of  her  roses,  a  pleasure  which  was  a  mat- 
ter of  course.  He  had  not  as  yet  said  anything 
to  check  her.  He  was  still  much  in  love,  and  was 
weak  where  she  was  concerned.  He  remembered 
that  her  lavishness  was  the  habit  of  her  life,  and 


228  FELICIA. 

reminded  himself  of  the  peculiar  difficulties  and 
deprivations  of  her  position.  He  always  wound 
up  his  cogitations  with  the  determination  that  he 
would  "  soon  "  have  a  serious  talk  with  her,  and 
propose  that  they  should  cut  down  expenses.  He 
felt  satisfied  that  she  would  prove  amenable,  but 
he  dreaded  her  puzzled  and  pained  acquiescence 
more  than  resistance  and  reproaches.  For  many 
reasons,  he  was  not  now  in  the  humor  to  sympa- 
thetically gloat  over  her  new  treasures. 

"  No,"  he  said,  peremptorily.  "  I  want  to  talk 
to  you." 

She  sank  back,  leaving  something  unfinished 
about  "  the  loveliest  Escurial  lace." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  go  about  with  Mrs.  Bran- 
ner,"  he  said. 

"  I  believe  you  are  jealous  of  Mrs.  Branner !  " 
cried  Felicia,  breaking  into  joyous  laughter. 
"  Dear  me !  what  an  opportunity  I  threw  away 
last  summer!  I  did  not  once  make  you  jealous. 
I  did  not  play  off  any  one  against  you  the  whole 
time." 

"  You  could  n't  play  a  part,"  he  declared,  drift- 
ing into  the  digression.  "  You  would  n't  know  how 
to  dissimulate.  I  often  wonder  how  a  woman 
trained  by  Madame  Sevier  can  be  so  frank." 

"  I  am  my  father's  daughter  as  well  as  Madame 
Sevier's  pupil,"  said  Felicia,  her  eyes  filling  sud- 
denly, as  they  always  did  at  the  mention  of  her 
father. 

"  Well,  lie,  is  frank,"  remarked  Hugh  Kennett, 
grimly.  "  I  will  say  that  much  for  him." 


FELICIA.  229 

After  a  pause,  during  which  Felicia  passed  her 
handkerchief  over  her  eyes,  with  the  furtive  ges- 
ture of  one  who  attempts  to  ignore  the  fact  that 
tears  are  ready  to  fall,  he  resumed  :  — 

"To  return  to  Mrs.  Branner.  I  don't  want 
you  to  have  so  much  to  do  with  her.  I  am  sorry, 
as  she  is  the  only  woman  you  happen  to  know ; 
but  I  can't  let  you  associate  with  her.  I  ought 
to  have  put  a  stop  to  it  before  this." 

"  Why  ?  "  demanded  Felicia,  in  a  startled  tono. 
She  had  roused  herself  from  her  lounging  atti- 
tude, and  was  looking  at  him  expectantly. 

"  Well,  she  is  not  a  suitable  friend  for  you. 
There  may  be  no  harm  in  her.  I  dare  say  she 
was  only  imprudent,  but  at  one  time  a  good  deal 
was  said  and  "  — 

"  And  yon  did  not  tell  me ! "  exclaimed  Feli- 
cia, violently  i  "and  you  let  me  talk  with  her  at 
that  theatre,  hour  after  hour!  How  could  you! 
How  could  you  !  " 

He  was  immensely  relieved.  He  had  feared 
that  from  some  quixotism,  some  championship  as 
of  injured  innocence,  she  would  espouse  Mrs. 
Branner's  cause ;  he  was  aware  of  her  underlying 
willfulness,  and  he  had  dreaded  to  enlist  it  against 
him  in  a  contest  like  this.  When  he  saw  how 
greatly  he  had  been  mistaken,  he  could  even  af- 
ford magnanimity. 

"  Mrs.  Brannev  was  probably  only  imprudent," 
he  said.  "  She  is  stupendously  vain,  as  you  see ; 
her  husband  was  very  jealous,  and  "  — 


280  FELICIA. 

"  I  would  not  associate  familiarly  with  such  a 
woman  for  any  imaginable  consideration,"  de- 
clared Felicia,  uncompromisingly. 

"  Felicia,  you  have  a  pitiless  standard,"  he  said, 
as  if  in  rebuke ;  and  he  was  inexpressibly  glad 
that  this  was  the  case. 

"  I  have  common  sense,"  retorted  Felicia, 
dryly. 

This  episode  ended  her  efforts  to  take  part, 
even  as  a  sympathetic  spectator,  in  her  husband's 
professional  career.  She  would  not  attend  re- 
hearsals, and  risk  being  again  thrown  with  Mrs. 
Branner. 

"  I  could  not  snub  her ;  I  would  not  hurt  her ; 
and  I  will  not  let  her  talk  to  me." 

Stage  life  thus  slipped  from  immediate  obser- 
vation into  a  retrospect,  and  she  began  presently 
to  analyze  the  chaotic  impressions  she  had  re- 
ceived during  her  constant  attendance  at  rehear- 
sals and  performances,  and  to  formulate  her  ex- 
perience as  a  whole.  She  evolved  the  theory  that 
she  had  unconsciously  forgiven  much,  —  a  certain 
tone,  a  Bohemianism  of  feeling  as  well  as  of  man- 
ner, which  would  once  have  been  unpardonable  in 
her  eyes.  Trifles,  infinitely  minute  points  indi- 
cating character,  unnoticed  at  the  time,  came  back 
with  a  new  emphasis.  To  be  sure,  these  people 
were  zealous ;  they  were  hard-working ;  many 
were  talented  ;  doubtless  many  were  faithful  in 
the  discharge  of  duty ;  they  had  bitter  trials  and 
disappointments  even  in  the  midst  of  their 


FELICIA.  231 

triumphs ;  to  her  mind  they  were  much  to  be 
pitied.  But  was  she  justified  in  subjecting  her- 
self to  the  influences  of  stage  life  merely  from 
idleness  and  ennui,  without  the  ennobling  element 
of  labor  and  the  consecration  of  an  inborn  talent  ? 

There  was  a  phrase  she  had  picked  up  in  her 
association  with  musical  people  which  seemed  to 
her  to  be  capable  of  a  wider  suggestion  than  its 
obvious  meaning.  She  often  heard  them  speak 
of  "  absolute  pitch."  The  phrase  might  imply  an 
immovable  value  other  than  tone.  Was  not  an 
exact  standard  of  morals,  of  worth,  of  essentials, 
even  of  externals,  a  strict  code  of  habits  and  man- 
ners, which  would  not  fluctuate  in  the  sweep  of 
extraneous  influences,  a  possession  intrinsically 
precious,  which  it  was  a  duty  not  to  underesti- 
mate ?  She  promised  herself  that  if  she  had  the 
gift  of  "  absolute  pitch  ".in  this  sense,  she  would 
not  lightly  cast  it  aside.  Better  her  empty  hours 
and  her  vague  haunting  disquiet ;  and  so  back  to 
her  old  loneliness. 

It.  was  more -endurable  now  that  the  season  was 
rapidly  drawing  to  a  close,  and  for  the  same  rea- 
son the  cessation  of  intercourse  with  Mrs.  Bran- 
ner  was  managed  without  a  seeming  estrangement. 
Plans  for  the  vacation  were  in  order,  and  ob- 
sorbed  much  thought.  Kennett  proposed  to  spend 
the  summer  abroad,  but  to  his  surprise  Felicia  ob- 
jected. 

"  We  have  been  so  hurried  and  harried  from 
place  to  place,"  she  suggested.  "  Why  not  go  to 


232  FELICIA. 

some  quiet  region,  far  from  the  army  of  summer 
tourists,  and  have  a  complete  rest?  We  have 
seen  people  enough  to  last  a  long  time." 

He  thought  this  over  a  moment.  "  Perhaps 
that  will  be  pleasant,"  he  acceded,  doubtfully; 
then  added,  "  and  certainly  cheap." 

The  place  they  selected  was  in  a  country  neigh- 
borhood in  one  of  the  hilly  counties  of  Kentucky, 
contiguous  to  the  mountain  region.  The  farm- 
house had  been  recommended  to  Kennett  by  an 
acquaintance,  who  had  once  passed  a  tedious  sum- 
mer of  convalescence  there.  "  It  is  a  very  plain 
sort  of  place,"  he  had  said,  "  but  the  people  are 
good-natured  and  sterling,  and  the  accommoda- 
tions endurable.  If  you  want  very  quiet  summer 
boarding,  you  cannot  do  better." 


XII. 

So  far  from  the  life  of  cities,  of  the  opera 
troupe,  its  associations  and  traditions,  was  this 
landscape  of  hill  and  valley  that  it  might  seem 
almost  the  life  of  a  foreign  planet.  The  rickety 
"double  buggy,"  which  had  been  sent  to  meet 
Kennett  and  his  wife,  drew  up  before  the  fence 
of  palings  which  inclosed  an  old  two-story  frame 
house  ;  there  was  a  portico  in  front,  several  hick- 
ory and  sycamore  trees  grew  in  the  yard,  and  a 
big  vegetable  garden  lay  at  one  side.  The  cows 
were  coming  home  ;  the  mellow  clanking  of  their 
bells  resounded  on  the  air.  Across  the  tasseled 
blue  grass  several  turkeys  were  making  their  way 
in  single  file,  evidently  with  the  intention  of  join- 
ing their  companions  already  gone  to  roost  in  the 
branches  of  an  oak-tree  ;  the  yellow  sunset  gilded 
their  feathers  to  a  more  marked  uniformity  with 
those  of  their  untamed  relatives  in  the  woods. 
In  the  background  were  visible  a  rail  pen,  a  few 
feet  high,  where  young  turkeys  were  kept,  and 
a  henhouse,  which  hens  and  cocks  entered  and 
emerged  from  at  intervals,  apparently  finding  it 
very  difficult  to  persuade  themselves  that  bedtime 
had  really  come.  The  house  was  situated  on  the 
slope  of  a  high  hill,  which,  in  the  background, 


234  FELICIA. 

rose  into  imposing  proportions,  heavily  wooded 
save  at  the  top,  where  a  clearing  had  been  made, 
from  which  a  crop  of  wheat  had  been  taken.  This 
bare  space,  so  incongruous  in  the  midst  of  the 
thick  umbrageous  forests,  gave  the  elevation  a 
curiously  bald-headed  look.  The  windows  com- 
manded a  long  perspective  of  valley,  which,  sub- 
divided by  jutting  spurs,  seemed  many  valleys; 
the  purple  hills  grew  amethystine  in  the  distance, 
then  more  and  more  faint  of  tint,  until  the  dainty 
landscape  close  to  the  horizon  was  sketched  in 
lines  of  sunlight.  Over  all  was  a  rosy  glow,  for 
the  day  was  slowly  waning.  The  cicadas  cease- 
lessly droned ;  the  odor  of  thyme  and  clover 
blossoms  was  on  the  fresh,  dry  air.  Kennett 
looked,  with  the  disparagement  of  the  city-bred 
man,  at  the  arrangements  of  the  "  company 
room." 

"  It  is  very  '  plain,'  I  must  say,"  he  remarked. 

Felicia  turned  her  flushed  cheeks  and  bright 
eyes  from  the  window,  and  critically  surveyed  the 
faded  ingrain  carpet;  the  four-post  walnut  bed- 
stead, surmounted  with  a  red  canopy  and  orna- 
mented by  a  "  log-cabin  "  patchwork  quilt ;  the 
heavy  stoneware  furnishing  on  the  wash-stand ; 
the  rush-bottomed  chairs;  the  plaster--of-paris  dog, 
and  very  green  parrot,  and  very  yellow  canary 
decorating  the  high,  narrow  wooden  mantelpiece  ; 
the  several  works  of  pictorial  art  on  the  walls,  — 
an  engraving  of  Stonewall  Jackson,  one  of  Samuel 
at  his  devotions,  a  colored  print  representing  a 


FELICIA.  235 

young  man  in  buff  trousers  and  a  blue  coat,  and 
a  young  woman  in  a  red  dress  and  with  black 
ringlets,  reading  from  the  same  big  book,  obeying 
as  well,  perhaps,  as  the  circumstances  permitted 
the  legend  "  Search  the  Scriptures."  Everything 
seemed  very  clean,  very  bare,  very  primitive. 
Then  she  looked  at  Kennett's  serious  face,  and 
broke  into  a  peal  of  joyous  laughter. 

"  How  you  are  going  to  miss  my  '  properties,'  " 
she  cried,  "my  poor,  dear  'properties,'  that  you 
scorned  !  Yet  you  don't  care  for  the  artificiali- 
ties, —  oh,  no,  indeed ;  you  have  such  simple 
tastes.  For  my  part,  I  think  it  is  all  very  nice, 
and  the  air  is  exhilaration  itself." 

"  If  you  are  pleased,  I  am  delighted,"  he  re- 
turned, ruefully. 

He  left  her  presently  to  see  about  the  baggage, 
and  she  watched  him  as  he  joined  their  host  and 
hostess  at  the  gate.  The  farmer  had  just  driven 
up  with  a  light  wagon,  in  which  were  the  trunks, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  handing  out  to  his  wife  the 
shawls,  satchels,  and  lunch  basket.  Felicia  said 
to  herself  that  she  could  not  make  a  mistake  in 
this  woman's  face.  She  had  a  firm  chin,  delicate 
lips,  and  the  transparent  complexion  usual  among 
the  dwellers  in  high  regions.  Her  hair,  brown, 
scanty,  lustreless,  and  sprinkled  with  gray,  was 
brushed  back  from  her  sunken  temples,  revealing 
her  features  in  full  relief,  and  her  expression  was 
more  than  serious,  —  it  was  almost  austere.  She 
wore  a  dark  calico  dress,  which  fell  in  scant  folds 


236  FELICIA. 

about  her ;  her  white  linen  collar  was  held  by  a 
pin  containing  a  badly  executed  likeness  of  her 
husband.  He  was  grave  of  face,  slow  of  move- 
ment, and  sparing  of  speech,  with  meditati  ve  blue 
eyes,  brown  hair  and  beard  cut  in  defiance  of  city 
standards,  and  he  was  dressed  in  a  much-worn 
suit  of  cheap,  shop-made  clothes.  Felicia  looked 
at  them  both  long  and  attentively,  and  then  looked 
back  into  the  room.  She  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  aloud,  "  very  plain  —  intensely 
plain  —  and  so  respectable." 

They  entered  next  day  upon  a  life  new  to  both, 
—  entirely  so  to  Kennett,  although  Felicia  had 
vague  reminiscences  of  something  similar  when, 
in  her  childhood,  her  father  had  had  the  whim 
to  take  her  with  him  through  the  rural  regions 
of  his  circuit.  Kennett,  the  man  of  cities  and 
of  artificialities,  found  a  certain  difficulty  in  ad- 
justing himself  to  such  unprecedented  conditions. 
He  could  lounge  systematically  enough  during 
his  vacations,  under  ordinary  circumstances  ;  but 
now,  without  boating,  driving,  billiards,  acquaint- 
ances, he  was  at  a  loss.  For  the  first  few  days 
he  said  at  least  a  hundred  times,  "  Felicia,  I  shall 
die  of  ennui  in  this  place."  It  seemed  to  him  al- 
most perversity  that  she  should  be  so  genuinely 
contented.  "  If  we  had  been  obliged  to  come 
here  because  it  is  cheap,  you  would  have  thought 
it  a  calamity,"  he  declared,  reproachfully.  She 
laughed  at  this,  and  said  he  was  hard  to  please: 
lie  was  always  insinuating  that  she  liked  to  spend 


FELICIA.  237 

money ;  now  that  she  was  helping  to  save  it  he 
was  not  satisfied.  After  this  he  drifted  into  what 
he  called  the  yawning  stage.  It  came  upon  him, 
uncontrollably,  ungraciously,  persistently,  regu- 
larly. "  It  must  be  malaria,"  he  would  say, 
bringing  his  jaws  together  by  a  mighty  effort  and 
with  his  eyes  full  of  tears. 

•  "  It  is  the  relaxation  from  a  tension,"  returned 
Felicia,  learnedly.  "  You  have  been  strung  up  to 
concert  pitch  for  so  long.  It  shows  that  you  need 
a  complete  rest." 

"  If  it  were  any  one  else,  I  should  say  it  shows 
complete  laziness." 

The  lazy  phase  came  a  little  later.  Then  he 
could  not  even  summon  the  energy  to  yawn.  For 
hours  he  would  lie  motionless  on  the  grass,  or 
swinging  in  the  hammock  which  they  had 
brought,  and  which  impressed  their  rural  enter- 
tainers as  a  most  felicitous  contrivance.  Some- 
times Felicia  read  aloud  ;  often  she  "  condescended 
to  talk,"  as  he  laughingly  phrased  it.  Apparently 
she  had  dismissed  her  anxieties ;  her  joyousness 
and  spontaneity  suggested  the  happy  days  of  last 
summer ;  when  her  mood  was  graver,  she  evinced 
a  depth  of  thought  and  feeling  at  variance  witn 
her  other  self.  She  had  often  appeared  to  him 
many-sided  ;  never  so  much  as  now.  There  was 
an  unexpectedness  about  her  which  lent  a  certain 
piquancy  to  her  companionship.  "  I  never  know 
exactly  what  you  are  going  to  think  or  say  on  any 
subject,"  he  remarked  one  day. 


238  FELICIA. 

"  It  is  just  the  reverse  with  me,"  she  replied. 
"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  think  or  say  be- 
fore you  do  yourself." 

The  time  seemed  to  pass  blithely  enough  for 
her.  She  amused  herself  about  the  house  and 
yard  like  a  child.  Occasionally  she  undertook 
light  household  tasks,  under  the  direction  of  Mrs. 
Wright,  —  shelling  peas,  stoning  cherries,  cap- 
ping strawberries,  and  the  like.  He  could  hear 
rising  on  the  soft,  warm  morning  air  her  voice 
and  infectious  laughter,  as  the  two  women  sat  to- 
gether in  the  shade  of  the  vines  that  covered  the 
portico.  Once  she  made  a  "  lady  cake,"  all  by 
herself,  except  baking  it,  she  declared,  exultantly ; 
and  Mrs.  Wright  slyly  smiled  superior,  and  did 
not  expound  the  summum  bonum  of  the  cake- 
making  art.  "  I  believe  I  have  a  talent  for  cook- 
ing," said  Felicia,  complacently.  "  I  should  have 
been  a  famous  housekeeper,  if  I  had  had  half  a 
chance." 

To  the  elder  woman,  looking  out  from  her 
meagre,  colorless  life,  the  bright  young  creature, 
with  her  quick  wits  and  warm  heart,  was  in  some 
sort  a  revelation.  They  drew  close  together  in 
these  summer  days.  Sometimes  their  talk  was 
serious  and  retrospective.  She  told  Felicia  of  the 
two  children  she  had  lost,  and  showed  her  their 
faded  daguerreotypes  and  some  of  their  little 
clothes.  "  The  girl  would  have  been  twenty- 
three  next  fall,  if  she  had  lived.  Jest  your  age," 
said  the  mother,  looking  wistfully  into  the  dewy 


FELICIA.  239 

violet  eyes,  and  vaguely  bridging  that  terrible 
gulf  of  empty  years  with  an  elusive  airy  structure 
of  what  might  have  been.  "  Ah,"  she  said,  with 
a  long-drawn  sigh,  "  God  knows  best.  His  will 
be  done." 

Her  sunken  eyes  turned  to  the  shimmering 
landscape  close  to  the  soft  horizon ;  her  sinewy, 
worn  hands  dropped  upon  the  faded  garments  on 
her  knee.  The  sunshine  lay  on  the  floor;  the 
wind  wafted  in  at  the  window  the  purple  ban- 
ners of  the  "  maiden's  bower ;  "  the  wing  of  a 
bird  flashed  past.  "  God's  will  be  done,"  she 
repeated. 

Felicia,  imperious,  intolerant,  rebellious,  shrank 
appalled  from  the  hypothesis  that  every  life  holds 
the  elements  of  bitter  woes,  like  in  degree,  dif- 
fering only  in  kind.  She  resolutely  reverted  to 
lighter  themes ;  she  shut  out  the  thought  of  grief. 
She  promised  herself  that  she  would  have  happi- 
ness,—  that  was  what  she  craved.  She  would 
not  be  balked  of  her  lightness  of  heart. 

Perhaps  her  theory  of  the  relaxation  of  a  severe 
tension  in  Kennett's  case  had  been  correct.  At 
any  rate,  by  degrees  something  of  his  former  me- 
thodical energy  asserted  itself.  He  assigned  to 
himself  the  duty  of  going  to  town  for  the  mail ; 
occasionally  he  procured  horses  and  took  his  wife 
riding ;  sometimes  he  went  on  a  shooting  excur- 
sion with  the  hobbledehoy  son  of  the  house,  re- 
turning with  a  few  birds  or  a  rabbit  as  a  trophy. 
Once  he  bought  from  a  mountaineer  a  deer  just 


240  FELICIA. 

killed,  —  game  laws  are  a  dead  letter  in  that  re- 
gion, —  and  brought  it  home  on  his  horse  in  true 
rural  sportsman  fashion,  greatly  enjoying  Felicia's 
delight  in  his  supposed  skill,  when  he  drew  rein 
before  the  portico  and  called  her  to  the  window. 
"  You  think  this  better  than  an  encore  for '  When 
the  bugle  sounds  '  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  much,  much  better  !  "  cried  Felicia  ;  and 
she  added  that,  in  her  opinion,  killing  a  deer  was 
more  appropriate  to  a  big  six-foot  man  than  an 
absorbing  interest  in  costumes  and  wigs  and  fea- 
thers, and  infinitely  small  points  about  pianissimo 
and  confuoco  and  intonation. 

June  had  passed.  July,  rich,  luscious,  brilliant 
with  color,  redolent  of  sweet  odors,  languorous 
with  sunshine,  was  glowing  into  August.  Through 
the  soft  bloom  on  the  big  peaches  the  warm  red 
deepened  day  by  day.  The  grapes  were  purpling. 
The  mellow,  perfumed  apples  dropped  heavily  on 
the  grass,  and  the  busy  "  yellow-jackets  "  rioted 
among  them.  Where  bearded  ears  of  millet  had 
waved  in  the  wind  the  shocks  were  piled,  and  al- 
ready the  encroaching  crab  grass  was  overcrowd- 
ing  the  prickly  stubble.  The  call  of  quail  vi- 
brated on  the  air.  The  forests  were  densely 
green.  The  streams  flowed  languidly,  for  the 
showers,  sudden  and  profusely  punctuated  by 
peals  of  thunder  and  flashes  of  lightning,  were 
short,  and  but  little  rain  fell.  On  these  perfect 
afternoons,  the  very  acme  and  culmination  of 
summer  and  light  and  vivid  life,  Felicia  loved  to 


FELICIA.  241 

stroll  up  the  steep  slopes,  not  stopping  till  a  cer- 
tain "  blue  spring,"  near  the  summit,  was  reached. 
A  jutting  spur  of  the  range  cut  off  all  extended 
outlook  ;  no  house  or  clearing  was  visible ;  the 
valley  was  walled  in  on  every  side ;  a  sea  of  foli- 
age below  the  crag  sent  up  a  monotonous  mur- 
mur. 

"  It  is  as  lonely  here  as  if  we  were  on  a  desert 
island,"  remarked  Kennett,  one  day,  — not,  how- 
ever, in  discontent;  having  once  adjusted  himself 
to  the  eventless  existence,  he  found  the  simple 
routine  endurable  enough.  He  was  lying  at 
length  on  the  cliff.  His  appearance  gave  token 
of  the  rural  life  he  had  been  leading :  he  was  sun- 
burned ;  his  hair  and  mustache,  under  the  ma- 
nipulation of  the  village  barber,  were  longer  than 
formerly,  and  their  luxuriance  gave  the  depth  of 
coloring  his  face  had  lacked  in  his  close-clipped 
trim  ;  he  had  taken  on  flesh,  and  his  raiment  sug- 
gested careless  wear.  He  was  more  picturesque 
than  formerly,  but  not  point-device. 

"  Some  of  these  days,"  he  went  on,  with  the 
deliberate  manner  of  one  to  whom  time  is  no  ob- 
ject, "  when  the  resources  of  the  country  are  de- 
veloped, this  place  will  be  a  summer  resort ;  half 
a  dozen  mineral  springs  in  a  stone's  throw,  a  rail- 
way only  three  miles  distant,  healthiest  air  in  the 
world,  no  mosquitoes,  —  what  more  can  the  heart 
of  the  summer  sojourner  desire  !  " 

"  You  are  as  eloquent  as  an  advertisement,"  re- 
sponded Felicia. 


242  FELICIA. 

"  The  hotel  would  be  on  that  level  stretch,  and 
the  bowling-alley  there  to  the  right,"  he  contin- 
ued, raising  himself  on  one  elbow,  and  looking 
about  with  the  serious  attention  sometimes  charac- 
teristic of  the  very  idle  in  contemplating  a  far- 
away possibility. 

"  There  would  be  an  '  observatory '  just  here," 
said  Felicia,  entering  into  his  mood,  "  where  the 
band  would  play  the  stage-coach  up  the  mountain ; 
and  people  would  flirt  on  the  piazzas,  and  women 
would  talk  gossip,  and  men  would  smoke  and  play 
euchre.  On  the  whole,  I  like  it  far  better  as  a 
desert  island." 

She  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  vast  slant  of  motion- 
less foliage  across  the  basin  of  the  valley.  A 
haze  was  thickening  in  the  sunshine  ;  an  ominous 
stillness  was  in  the  air  ;  athwart  a  mass  of  black 
cloud  that  was  imperceptibly  stealing  up  from  the 
west  quivered  a  slow  pale  flash ;  the  roll  of  thun- 
der, indistinct  yet  sinister,  sounded  beneath  the 
horizon. 

Felicia  spoke  suddenly,  with  the  ring  of  intense 
feeling  in  her  voice. 

"  I  wish  this  were  a  desert  island  ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  I  wish  we  could  never  see  any  more 
people,  or  hotels,  or  Pullman  cars,  or  theatres.  I 
like  this  life." 

"  You  would  soon  be  tired  of  it,"  he  rejoined. 

"  You  seem  to  like  it,"  she  said. 

He  had  thrown  himself  down  again  at  full 
length.  "  Yes,"  he  replied,  after  a  long  pause, 


FELICIA.  243 

"  I  like  it.  It  has  been  extremely  pleasant.  It 
is  very  gentle  and  peaceful,  and  very  aimless.  I 
am  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  turmoil,  and  tension,  and 
effort." 

"  Why  not  be  rid  of  them  permanently  ?  "  asked 
Felicia,  in  sudden  sharp  agitation. 

"  It  is  not  what  is  pleasant,  it  is  what  a  man 
is  fit  for,  that  he  must  consider."  He  roused 
himself  from  his  recumbent  attitude,  and  leaned 
against  the  bole  of  a  huge  oak  that  projected  over 
the  rock  on  which  they  sat.  "  Then,"  he  said, 
"  there  's  this." 

He  inclined  his  head  slightly,  as  if  he  were  lis- 
tening, and,  with  a  half  smile,  clapped  his  hands 
softly  together. 

"It  is  not  merely  the  applause,"  he  added, 
after  a  moment's  reflection.  "  I  will  do  myself 
the  justice  to  say  that.  Half  the  time  the  public 
does  n't  know  why  it  applauds.  It  is  the  con- 
sciousness that  the  applause  is  deserved." 

Then  both  were  silent.  An  acorn  detached  it- 
self'from  among  the  leaves  above  them,  dropped 
with  a  resonant  thud  on  the  crag,  and,  rebounding 
sharply,  fell  into  the  valley  below.  A  blue  jay 
chattered  antagonistically  and  vivaciously  some- 
where in  the  foliage.  An  imperceptible  current 
of  air  brought  to  them  the  fresh  odors  of  fern  and 
mint  from  the  banks  of  the  spring  branch  near 
by ;  they  could  hear  the  water  drip  over  the  cool 
mossy  stones.  From  the  black  clouds,  ever  rising 
higher  above  the  western  mountains,  came  again 


244  FELICIA. 

a  peal  of  thunder,  muffled,  but  definite  at  last. 
The  wind  was  rising. 

All  at  once  Keunett  began  to  sing. 

The  volume  of  sound  —  smooth,  melodious, 
rich,  resonant,  permeated  through  and  through, 
from  its  gentlest  tone  to  the  full  capacity  of  its 
compass,  with  that  mastering,  constraining  inten- 
sity which  for  the  lack  of  a  better  phrase  is  called 
the  sympathetic  quality  —  rose  and  fell  with  a 
certain  majesty  of  effect.  Perhaps  it  was  because 
of  the  long  rest,  perhaps  because  of  the  strangely 
perfect  serenity  of  the  last  six  weeks,  perhaps 
because  she  had  become  trained  to  discriminate, 
—  certainly  that  voice  had  never  seemed  to  her 
so  valuable  merely  as  an  organ. 

Once  she  had  asked  him  if  it  were  not  possible 
that  he  and  his  friends  overrated  his  gift ;  if  a 
man  of  thirty-three,  thoroughly  trained,  has  not 
attained,  or  at  least  approximated,  his  best  pos- 
sibility. Was  it  likely  that  he  could  after  that 
become  a  great  singer,  instead  of  merely  an  excel- 
lent one  ? 

He  had  the  anxious  vanity  of  the  musician ; 
the  question  hurt  him,  but  he  replied  as  dispas- 
sionately as  he  could.  In  all  candor,  he  said,  he 
was  of  opinion  that  neither  he  nor  his  friends 
overrated  him.  "  No  man  of  sense  deliberately 
determines  that  he  will  be  a  supremely  great  dra- 
matic singer,  any  more  than  a  playwright  of  set 
purpose  sits  down  to  rival  Shakespeare."  He 
added  that  he  would  admit  that  he  was  not  so 


FELICIA.  245 

well  known  or  so  fairly  appreciated  as  he  deserved 
to  be,  but  he  had  been  constrained  by  the  circum- 
stances in  his  case.  He  had  been  compelled  to 
take  whatever  engagements  offered  ;  he  could  not 
choose  or  wait  for  better  opportunities.  He  could 
not  say  that  he  hoped  ever  to  become  one  of  the 
few  supremely  great  singers  ;  but  there  were 
many  degrees,  and  he  fully  expected  to  stand  far 
higher  than  he  had  yet  done. 

Felicia  had  also  a  theory  that  in  vividness  of 
imagination  he  was  not  preeminent.  He  was  al- 
ways appropriate,  controlled,  but  to  her  he  seemed 
to  lack  the  sudden  flame  of  inspiration.  She 
thought  him  too  well  trained ;  he  was  limited  by 
traditions,  precedents,  reasons.  The  fine  fire  of 
his  capacity  burned  steadily,  with  too  even  a  glow. 
To-day  she  retracted  this  judgment,  as,  with  the 
precision  of  an  instrument  in  perfect  tune,  with 
the  adroit  management  of  an  accomplished  musi- 
cian, with  the  subtle  enthusiasms  of  a  sensitive 
soul,  he  sent  the  pathos  and  the  passion  of  Lohen- 
grin's Farewell  pulsating  across  the  uninhabited 
sea  of  verdure  at  their  feet. 

"No,  no,"  he  said,  as  the  last  sound  wave  died 
away,  and  he  rose,  extending  his  hand  to  assist 
her.  "  I  am  dedicated  to  '  Mein  lieber  SchwanJ 
whose  other  name  might  be  called  Melpomene. 
That  is  what  I  was  born  for." 

And  she,  —  she  said  nothing.  In  her  soul  she 
knew  he  spoke  the  truth.  What  was  there  for 
her  but  —  to  say  nothing  ? 


246  FELICIA. 

Before  they  reached  the  house,  the  black  cloud, 
suddenly  in  swift  motion,  had  overspread  the 
whole  sky.  They  barely  escaped  the  storm  ;  the 
first  heavy  drops  were  falling  as  they  shut  the 
gate  and  ran  up  the  pavement;  in  a  moment 
more  the  whitening  sheets  of  rain  were  dashing 
against  the  window  panes,  the  lightnings  were 
playing  over  the  landscape,  and  the  thunder 
pealed. 

They  found  their  host  and  hostess  in  what  was 
called  the  "  settin'-room,"  a  square,  sparsely  fur- 
nished apartment,  opposite  the  parlor.  Mrs. 
Wright  looked  up,  with  her  slow  smile,  from  the 
peaches  she  was  paring  for  supper.  Her  hus- 
band, tilted  against  the  wall  in  a  split-bottomed 
chair,  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  as  Kennett 
entered. 

"You  was  singin'  up  thar  ter  the  blue  spring, 
warn't  ye  ?  "  he  demanded,  with  a  trifle  of  viva- 
city. "  I  thought  it  must  be  you.  Well,  ye  're 
a  good  singer,  shore." 

"You  ought  to  go  to  meetings  Sundays,  and 
lead  the  hymns,"  said  Mrs.  Wright.  She  had 
not  yet  been  able  to  fully  comprehend  the  mental 
and  moral  attitude  of  people  who  do  not  desire  to 
go  to  church.  "  Mr.  Wright  says  you  're  a  choir 
all  by  youi'self." 

Felicia  glanced  at  Kennett.  Obviously  he  was 
pleased.  Ah,  the  insatiate  vanity  of  the  musi- 
cian, —  flattered  by  such  a  tribute  as  this ! 

"Bob  's   been   to   the   post   office,"    said   Mr. 


FELICIA.  247 

Wright,  suddenly.  "  There  's  a  letter  fur  ye  on 
the  table." 

Kennett  took  it  with  the  alacrity  with  which 
people  in  the  country  receive  their  mail,  read  and 
re-read  it,  then  slowly  placed  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  business,"  he  said,  meeting 
Felicia's  eye. 

The  next  morning,  however,  he  showed  it  to 
her. 

"  Do  you  know  what  this  means  ? "  he  de- 
manded, with  exultation.  "This  means  grand 
opera  another  season,  under  the  most  auspicious 
circumstances." 

"  It  is  only  an  offer  for  a  concert  tour  with  the 
Asterisk  Quartette,  at  the  fashionable  watering- 
places,  as  a  substitute  for  their  tenor,  who  is 
obliged  to  resign  on  account  of  ill  health,"  said 
Felicia,  her  eyes  still  on  the  letter. 

She  had  heard  of  the  organization,  which  was 
in  many  respects  exceptional.  A  notable  mana- 
ger had  induced  certain  superior  artists  to  give 
up  their  usual  vacations  for  the  discomforts  of  a 
professional  season,  plausibly  arguing  that  a  rich 
harvest  might  be  reaped  if  the  leisure  class  — 
bent  especially  on  enjoyment  and  on  spending 
money  —  be  offered  first-class  attractions.  So  far 
he  had  been  very  successful,  both  as  to  the  mate- 
rial secured  and  the  practical  result. 

"  This  is  just  the  opportunity  I  want,"  said 
Kennett,  walking  about  the  room  in  unwonted 
excitement.  "  This  is  the  best  organization  in  the 


248  FELICIA. 

country.  To  take  Stuart's  place  gives  prestige 
by  itself.  If  I  can  hold  my  own,  —  and  I  can,  — 
this  means  rapid  advancement." 

"  But  you  have  already  signed  with  Mr.  Hal- 
let." 

"  Only  for  the  next  season.  After  that  I  will 
choose." 

Felicia  sank  down  on  one  of  the  straight- 
backed  chairs,  and  gazed  absently  at  the  floor,  the 
letter  still  in  her  hand. 

"  Well,  Hugh,"  she  said  at  last,  looking  up  at 
him,  "  I  want  you  to  decline  this." 

He  stared  at  her. 

"  I  am  going  into  town  in  the  next  half  hour  to 
reply  by  telegram,  as  they  desired,"  he  returned. 
"  I  shall  most  certainly  accept  it." 

"  You     show    great    consideration     for     my 
wishes  !  "  she  exclaimed,  bitterly. 

"You  are  unreasonable,"  he  rejoined. 

"  Because  I  am  happy  here,  living  in  this  quiet, 
simple,  inexpensive  way,  you  want  to  give  it  up." 

"  I  have  been  happy,  too  ;  but  if  an  idle,  pur- 
poseless existence  is  pleasant,  must  a  man  jeopard- 
ize his  future  ?  " 

"Oh,  you  promised  —  you  promised  to  stay 
another  month,  and  now  you  are  going  to  drag 
me  back  to  that  tawdry  falseness !  It  would  be 
different  if  the  season  had  opened  ;  then  it  would 
be  necessary ;  but  this  is  so  gratuitous." 

"  This  is  so  beneficent,"  he  corrected.  "  It  is 
an  opportunity  that  may  never  occur  again." 


FELICIA.  249 

She  burst  into  tears.  He  attempted  coaxing, 
but  she  interpreted  this  as  a  sign  of  relenting, 
and  grew  more  insistent.  He  tried  argument, 
and  was  met  by  the  positive  declaration  that  what 
is  wisest  is  not  comparable  to  what  is  happiest. 
Now  that  she  had  at  last  relaxed  her  hold  on  her 
will  she  was  as  unreasonable  and  as  persistent  as 
a  spoiled  child.  At  last  he  too  lost  his  temper. 

"This  is  intolerable,"  he  said,  angrily,  rising 
and  turning  to  the  door. 

She  sprang  before  him,  and  stood,  one  hand  on 
the  bolt  and  the  other  on  his  arm,  as  if  to  push 
him  back,  her  body  thrown  forward  in  the  poise 
of  suddenly  arrested  motion,  and  an  intent  ex- 
pression on  her  beautiful  face. 

"Oh,  Hugh,"  she  cried,  "I  beg  —  I  insist  that 
we  don't  go  yet !  Let  me  be  happy  a  little 
longer ! " 

He  looked  at  her  coldly. 

"You  may  have  mistaken  your  vocation,"  he 
said.  "  You  have  a  good  pose  —  a  very  good 
pose  —  at  this  moment.  There  's  nothing  like  a 
pronounced  success  in  domestic  melodrama,"  he 
added,  with  a  laugh. 

His  sarcasm  stung  her  like  a  lash.  She  slowly 
withdrew  her  hand  from  the  bolt,  her  eyes  full  on 
his ;  she  slowly  crossed  the  room. 

He  regretted  his  words  ;  already  his  anger  was 
melting. 

"  Forgive  me,''  he  entreated. 

She  stood  silent  a  moment,  and  looked  at  him 
with  hard  eyes. 


250  FELICIA. 

"  Send  your  telegram,"  she  said. 

He  left  the  house  without  another  word.  When 
he  returned  from  town,  he  found  her  in  her  trav- 
eling attire,  the  rooms  bare  of  their  effects,  and 
the  trunks  packed.  He  walked  about  restlessly 
for  a  few  moments ;  he  looked  at  her  in  anxious 
indecision. 

"You  are  not  angry?"  he  asked,  in  depreca- 
tion. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  with  a  certain  metallic 
clearness  in  her  laugh.  "  I  am  only  obedient." 


XIII. 

THE  next  six  weeks,  outwardly  brilliant,  were 
a  prolonged  trial  of  skill,  in  which  Kennett, 
instead  of  merely  preserving  his  rank  as  facile 
princeps,  as  in  Hallet's  troupe,  found  it  neces- 
sary to  hold  his  own  among  singers  more  nearly 
his  equals.  He  threw  himself  heart  and  mind 
into  the  effort  to  do  his  capacity  full  justice,  and 
in  this*  protracted  crisis  his  professional  interests 
absorbed  him  more  than  ever  to  the  exclusion  of 
his  personal  interests. 

Perhaps  no  man  fully  interprets  that  subtle 
and  obscure  scripture,  a  woman's  nature,  least  of 
all  the  nature  of  a  woman  like  Felicia,  supersen- 
sitive,  proud,  intolerant ;  in  a  certain  complicated 
sense  insistently  conscientious  ;  susceptible  to  def- 
inite yet  delicate  influences  which  might  not  af- 
fect a  differently  organized  individuality.  Ken- 
nett did  not  realize  all  she  felt,  and  he  dared  not 
allow  himself  to  dwell  upon  the  possibility  that 
she  was  suffering.  It  was  a  positive  and  practi- 
cal necessity  that  he  should  eschew  any  cause  of 
agitation  and  disquiet;  that  he  should  live  in 
a  simple,  normal,  prosaic  emotional  atmosphere. 
There  had  been  a  reconciliation  between  them, 
—  tears,  regrets,  self-reproaches,  —  and  each  had 


252  FELICIA. 

promised  to  remember  no  more  the  other's  hasty 
words.  Kennett  had  made  this  promise  in  all 
good  faith,  and  had  dismissed  the  episode  but  for 
the  recurrent  suspicion,  which  he  sought  to  ig- 
nore, that  it  still  remained  with  her. 

She  had  no  deep  absorption  to  lighten  gradu- 
ally the  intensity  of  her  contending  feelings. 
Her  pride,  her  wounded  self-esteem,  her  love,  made 
the  thought  intolerable  to  her,  yet  she  brooded 
for  hours  on  that  crucial  interview.  That  he 
should  have  looked  at  her  with  those  cruel  eyes,  — 
that  he  should  have  spoken  those  sneering  words! 
She  would  remind  herself  that  she  had  promised 
to  forget  it,  but  she  would  recur  to  it  with* a  sort 
of  willfulness  despite  the  pain;  a  certain  obdu- 
racy was  aroused  in  her ;  it  was  strange  to  her 
that  her  heart  should  be  at  once  so  sore  and  so 
hard. 

Is  there  not  a  trifle  of  ambiguity  in  our  exposi- 
tion of  moral  values?  Those  sweeping  phrases, 
generosity,  selfishness,  for  example,  —  in  certain 
jugglery  of  forces,  do  they  not  become  sometimes 
interchangeable  ?  The  soul  that  can  invest  itself 
in  what  one  may  call  a  state  of  slippered  ease ; 
that  can  acquiesce,  concede,  constrain  its  own 
approval,  shut  out  the  turmoil  of  endeavor,  the 
exactions  of  a  definite  ideal,  the  embittering  pro- 
cesses of  contention  with  the  antagonistic  forces  of 
other  ideals,  is  in  a  certain  sense  a  fortunate  soul. 
And  generous  ?  We  usually  say  so.  But  this 
suggestion  is  submitted :  to  forego  is  an  easy 
process. 


FELICIA.  258 

Felicia's  standards,  artificial,  perhaps,  —  per- 
haps, unworthy,  —  were  imperative.  It  would 
have  been  comfortable  to  compromise ;  with  her, 
compromise  was  impossible.  What  she  deemed 
due  to  herself  was  always  a  potent  force  with  her; 
she  was  still  more  exacting  when  her  feelings  were 
deeply  involved.  The  life,  too,  brought  its  pecu- 
liar elements  of  trial.  There  was  much  in  this 
abnormal,  showy,  brilliant  midsummer  "  season  " 
against  which,  loyal  to  her  estimate  of  the  becom- 
ing, she  revolted.  Last  winter's  seclusion  was 
now  impossible.  Then  the  contact  with  the  pub- 
lic had  been  slight  enough,  confined  principally 
to  the  hotel  dining-rooms  and  railway  trains ;  now, 
in  these  sojourns  at  the  crowded  resorts,  life  was 
all  out-of-doors,  —  on  piazzas,  at  the  spring,  on 
the  beach.  Felicia,  accustomed  from  her  earliest 
childhood  to  be  regarded  by  strangers  with  re- 
spectful admiration,  was  stung  by  the  eyes  which 
rested  upon  her  with  curiosity,  admixed  perhaps 
with  a  little  wonder  that,  being  what  she  evidently 
was,  she  should  be  placed  as  she  was.  Infinitely 
more  bitter  it  was  to  her  whenever  it  chanced  that 
Keunett's  striking  appearance  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  certain  notable  men,  as  they  lounged  about, 
watching  the  kaleidoscopic  pageantry  on  the  es- 
planade. She  would  see  their  glances  follow  him, 
and  would  divine,  as  they  turned  to  some  well- 
informed  habitue,  that  they  asked  who  he  was. 
They  were  for  the  most  part  portly,  red-faced 
fathers  of  families,  —  judges,  like  her  own  father, 


254  FELICIA. 

bank  presidents,  railroad  magnates.  These,  last 
winter,  had  been  merely  a  portion  of  the  great, 
unindividualized  public ;  now  they  were  separate 
personalities,  easily  differentiated.  Sometimes  it 
almost  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  been  endowed 
with  a  sixth  sense  denied  to  happier  people,  —  a 
sense  of  intuitive  mental  vision,  by  which  she 
knew,  as  well  as  divined,  the  process  through 
which  the  curiosity  of  these  gentlemen  was  trans- 
muted, as  their  inquiry  was  answered,  into  a  sur- 
prised comprehension,  too  slighting  in  its  quality 
to  be  even  contempt.  It  was  intolerable  that  this 
valuable  element  of  society  should  esteem  her  hus- 
band "  a  singing  fellow,"  as  if  he  were  of  another 
order  of  beings.  It  does  not  come  easily  to  such 
a  woman  as  Felicia  to  say,  concerning  the  man 
she  loves,  "nevertheless,"  to  make  allowances,  to 
overlook,  to  palliate.  She  would  fain  have  ex- 
ulted in  him.  She  realized  poignantly  how  proud 
she  could  be  of  him,  had  he  attained  a  measure  of 
success  in  what  her  father  and  brother  called  "  the 
sane  walks  of  life "  equal  to  that  which  he  had 
achieved  in  this  vocation  of  his.  She  said  to  her- 
self, fierily,  piteously,  helplessly,  that  it  was  his 
right,  his  due,  that  he  should  have  a  place  among 
estimable  and  successful  men  of  position,  —  and 
ah,  how  many  of  these  there  were  in  the  world ! 
—  a  place  as  an  equal,  even  a  superior ;  for  who 
can  say  how  far  force  may  carry  when  exerted 
in  the  right  direction !  She  craved  this  for 
him ;  and  yet  she  too  held  almost  religiously  her 


FELICIA,  255 

father's  and  her  brother's  views  as  to  the  sane 
walks  of  life.  Her  heart  ached  for  him  that  he 
should  be  deprived  of  the  solid  values  of  exist- 
ence; she  was  almost  enraged  against  him  that 
he  could  not  understand  his  deprivation. 

So  grievous  was  this  chagrin  that  it  even 
dwarfed  what  she  felt  when  she  met  the  amused 
contempt  in  the  faces  of  the  women  who  knew  her 
own  story ;  for  not  unf requently  they  encountered 
women  who  knew  her  story.  It  seemed  a  very 
perverse  fate  that  this  should  happen  now,  yet  the 
previous  summer,  when  she  would  have  been  glad 
to  meet  any  of  her  old  schoolmates  or  acquaint- 
ances, she  saw  only  strangers. 

In  the  first  episode  of  this  kind  a  deeper  senti- 
ment was  involved  than  amused  contempt.  The 
incident  occurred  at  one  of  the  notable  seaside 
hotels.  Kennett  and  Felicia  had  just  finished 
their  late  breakfast,  and  were  walking  down  the 
long  piazza.  A  trio  of  ladies,  presumably  last 
night's  arrivals,  was  advancing  toward  them. 
Suddenly  Felicia  quickened  her  steps,  with  an 
exclamation  ;  her  lips  were  parted  in  such  a  smile 
of  pleasure  as  they  had  not  known  for  many  a 
day.  The  trio  faltered ;  indeed,  the  eldest,  a 
large,  well-preserved,  well-dressed  woman  of  fifty, 
almost  came  to  a  standstill ;  then  she  swept  on- 
ward, detaching  an  eyeglass  from  its  catch  and 
adjusting  it  composedly. 

"  How  do  you  do  ? "  she  said,  bowing  and 
smiling  graciously.  "  Glad  to  see  you  here." 
And  she  would  fain  have  proceeded. 


256  FELICIA. 

It  was  an  awkward  moment,  —  doubly  awk- 
ward because  of  spectators ;  a  number  of  persons, 
sitting  and  standing  about,  were  looking  on  with 
the  intense  interest  of  the  desperately  idle.  Feli- 
cia had  been  so  evidently  pleased,  her  acceleration 
of  pace  and  her  exclamation  were  so  noticeable, 
that  to  pass  now  without  pausing  would  be  very 
marked.  With  an  aplomb  hardly  to  be  expected 
in  so  young  a  woman,  she  halted  unflinchingly  in 
front  of  the  elder  lady,  and  extended  her  hand. 
Mrs.  Morris's  condescension,  it  must  be  admitted, 
was  distanced  in  the  spirited  half  minute's  dash 
that  ensued. 

"  So  pleased  to  see  you,"  said  Felicia,  with  com- 
posed ceremoniousness  of  manner.  "  Let  me  in- 
troduce my  husband.  You  will  have  the  pleasure 
of  hearing  him  sing.  Shall  be  glad  to  send  you 
tickets.  Your  daughters  are  quite  well  ?  "  She 
smiled  and  beamed  on  the  hesitating  young  la- 
dies. Her  tone  was  that  of  a  woman  advanced 
beyond  them  in  some  way,  —  much  older  and  long 
ago  married. 

She  held  the  fort ;  she  was  the  centre  and 
mainspring  of  the  situation.  She  had  never 
looked  more  beautiful.  She  was  in  brilliant 
health  ;  the  long  hours  she  had  spent  in  the  open 
air,  this  summer,  had  suffused  her  delicate  skin 
with  a  rich  glow  which  was  very  becoming  to  her. 
About  her  slim,  elegant  figure  floated  the  folds  of 
one  of  her  effective  costumes,  at  once  simple  and 
elaborate,  gray  of  tint  with  elusive  suggestions  of 


FELICIA.  257 

faint  green.  Her  pose,  as  Kennett  might  have 
said,  was  good,  —  very  good  ;  her  head  was  erect, 
but  not  held  haughtily ;  her  attitude  had  a  cer- 
tain alertness,  as  of  a  bird  about  to  fly ;  her  eyes 
were  very  bright,  and  dark,  and  smiling;  her 
teeth  gleamed  through  her  parted  red  lips;  she 
was  airily,  self-possessed. 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  here  for  some  time,"  she 
said,  with  suavity.  "  6rOOC?-morning.  Au  revoir." 

She  swept  away,  with  Kennett  beside  her.  The 
Morris  girls  glanced  over  their  shoulders  at  her 
tall,  impressive,  well-dressed  blond  husband. 
They  thought  Felicia's  fate  romantic,  and  said 
to  each  other  that  she  was  more  beautiful  than 
ever. 

"  Why  did  you  snub  the  old  lady  ?  "  demanded 
Kennett,  selecting  chairs  where  they  could  look 
out  upon  the  drive  as  well  as  at  the  palpitating 
blue  sea. 

"  Did  n't  you  understand  ?  She  attempted  to 
snub  me.  She  does  n't  consider  me  as  important 
as  she  once  did." 

"Oh,"  he  returned,  enlightened,  "  was  that  it!  " 

"And  Mabel  Morris  and  I  were  like  sisters 
once  ! "  cried  Felicia,  with  a  sharp  pain  in  her 
voice.  "  I  used  to  go  to  their  home  as  familiarly 
as  they  themselves.  And  papa  could  never  pet 
them  enough,  because  they  were  fond  of  me.  And 
when  he  was  in  New  York,  it  was  one  continual 
round  of  opera,  and  theatre,  and  driving,  and 
presents,  and  lovely  times  for  us  three.  And 


258  FELICIA. 

Mrs.  Morris  was  fond  of  me,  too ;  and  now  she 
does  not  want  Mabel  to  speak  to  me.  I  am  an 
awful  example  and  a  dangerous  acquaintance." 

He  thought  she  was  on  the  verge  of  tears,  but 
she  pulled  herself  together  by  a  violent  effort,  and 
gave  a  bitter  little  laugh  instead.  He  saw  how 
keenly  she  was  hurt. 

"  I  would  n't  care  for  her,"  he  said,  soothingly. 

"  I  don't  care  for  her ;  I  care  for  myself,"  said 
Felicia,  dryly. 

Mrs.  Morris's  fears  as  to  a  renewal  of  the  old 
intimacy  were  groundless.  Somehow,  whenever 
she  or  her  daughters  chanced  to  be  thrown  into 
Felicia's  vicinity,  something  particularly  interest- 
ing was  on  hand.  "  That  great  three-masted  ves- 
sel an  English  ship  with  a  cargo  of  jute?  Jute  ! 
How  interesting  !  "  Or,  "  Only  see,  Hugh,  how 
those  sail-boats  are  tossing  on  this  choppy  sea; 
they  seem  to  be  courtesying  to  each  other."  Or 
she  had  just  been  told  that  the  strange  commotion 
in  the  water  was  occasioned  by  the  passing  of  por- 
poises, and  she  was  absorbed  in  watching  for  a 
glimpse  above  the  waves  of  the  ungainly  crea- 
tures, only  aroused  to  a  consciousness  of  the  exist- 
ence of  her  friends  when  Kennett  gravely  bowed 
as  he  raised  his  hat.  Then  she  would  look  up 
suddenly  and  also  bow,  and  smile  the  society 
smile,  which  means  many  things  or  nothing  at  all. 
At  first  Mrs.  Morris  was  relieved  to  discover  that 
that  bland  "  Au  revoir  "  had  been  merely  a  figure 
of  speech,  but  later  she  was  angered. 


FELICIA.  259 

"  Felicia  Hamilton  poses  as  if  she  were  still  Fe- 
licia Hamilton  !  "  the  astute  lady  declared,  in  irri- 
tation. 

"  She  seems  very  happy,"  said  the  elder  daugh- 
ter pensively,  looking  at  the  couple  as  they  strolled 
down  the  beach.  He  was  opening  her  parasol ; 
he  had  her  light  wrap  over  his  arm ;  he  bent  his 
head  as  he  talked  to  her. 

"And  he  is  very  handsome,"  added  Mabel. 

Mrs.  Morris  glanced  sharply  from  one  to  the 
other. 

Later  in  the  day,  Mabel  remarked,  apropos  of 
nothing,  that  the  basso,  Mr.  Dallon,  was  also  very 
handsome ;  and  it  was  within  an  hour  that  Mrs. 
Morris  was  smitten  with  a  dreadful  pain  in  her 
eyes,  which  she  said  must  be  due  to  the  intense 
glare  of  the  sun  on  the  water.  She  felt  sure  that 
she  had  better  take  the  first  train  for  New  York 
and  consult  an  oculist,  and  thence  proceed  to  some 
place  where  shade  was  possible,  —  the  Adiron- 
dacks,  perhaps.  Trunks  were  hastily  packed,  and 
before  sunset  the  party  was  off,  —  a  handkerchief 
binding  the  eyes  of  the  suffering  lady. 

Felicia  did  not  again  make  the  mistake  of  mani- 
festing pleasure  upon  meeting  old  acquaintances. 
A  bow,  a  smile,  sometimes  a  few  words  when  the 
advances  came  from  the  other  side,  constituted 
her  social  experience  during  the  summer.  Her 
sensitive  pride,  thoroughly  on  the  alert,  defended 
her  against  a  second  peril  of  discomfiture. 

One  of  these  chance  meetings  was  an  encounter 


260  FELICIA. 

with  the  Graftons.  It  occurred  in  the  dining- 
room  of  the  hotel  at  which  the  Hamilton  party 
had  sojourned  while  at  the  seaside  the  previous 
summer.  She  and  Kennett  were  entering;  the 
Graftons  were  going  out.  Little  Mrs.  Grafton 
peered  at  Felicia  with  startled,  beadlike  eyes,  her 
pointed  mouse-like  head  inquiringly  askew,  her 
diminutive  nostrils  quivering.  Then  she  glanced 
affrightedly  up  and  down  the  long  floor,  as  if  in 
search  of  a  hole  to  run  into ;  then  she  said, 
"  How  do  you  do  ? "  in  a  very  high,  thin  voice, 
much  as  she  might  have  said,  "  Squeak,  squeak," 
and  walked  on  with  the  air  of  scuttling.  Nellie 
stared  with  her  hard,  round  black  eyes,  —  Felicia 
thought  Madame  Sevier  was  not  doing  much  for 
Nellie.  Alfred  bowed  frigidly.  "How  he  must 
gloat  over  my  ill-regulated  mind  !  "  meditated  Fe- 
licia, bitterly. 

Meeting  him  here  brought  back  last  summer 
very  vividly  to  her  recollection.  By  an  odd  coin- 
cidence, the  room  assigned  to  her  was  the  one  she 
had  then  occupied.  She  softened  a  little  the  first 
evening  of  her  arrival,  her  eyes  on  the  chair  by 
the  window  where  she  used  to  sit  and  look  out,  as 
well  as  she  could  for  her  tears,  at  the  shining 
track  of  molten  silver  light,  as  the  moon  sailed 
over  the  sea.  "  How  unhappy  I  was !  "  she 
thought,  commiserating  that  other  self,  and  losing 
in  the  recollection  of  the  old  grief  some  of  the 
poignancy  of  the  new.  She  had  half  resolved  to 
tell  Kennett,  when  he  should  come  back  from  the 


FELICIA.  261 

concert,  the  history  of  that  little  chair,  —  how  she 
used  to  sit  there,  night  after  night,  with  her  head 
on  the  window-sill,  and  weep  her  heart  away  be- 
cause he  had  not  answered  her  note.  Perhaps  he 
would  be  interested ;  perhaps  the  constraint  of 
feeling  that  had  infused  itself  into  their  relations 
would  disappear,  and  life  would  become  more  en- 
durable. 

He  returned  in  a  bad  humor,  however ;  some- 
thing had  gone  wrong  with  the  accompaniment, 
and  he  commented  bitterly,  —  a  rare  thing  with 
him,  for  control  of  his  temper  was  a  part  of  his 
professional  system.  "  When  a  damned  idiot," 
he  said  fiercely  between  his  set  teeth,  "  who  pre- 
tends to  know  nothing  but  music,  can't  see  a  red- 
hntando  when  it  is  marked  plainer  than  print, 
what  is  he  fit  for  !  " 

Once  Felicia  might  have  suggested  "  treason, 
stratagems,  and  spoils  ;  "  but  pleasantries  did  not 
come  to  her  readily  nowadays,  and  she  only  looked 
at  him  in  silence  as  he  kicked  the  historic  chair, 
that  happened  to  stand  in  his  way,  and  instituted 
a  tense  and  vivacious  search  for  his  slippers,  and 
demanded  of  her  if  she  thought  it  was  beneficial 
to  a  neuralgic  headache  to  sit  before  an  open  win- 
dow. Obviously  it  was  no  occasion  for  sentiment, 
and  before  he  recovered  his  equanimity  the  im- 
pulse had  passed. 

He  was  not  altogether  satisfied  with  his  work 
during  the  summer  engagement.  To  be  sure,  he 
had  been  praised,  he  had  made  reputation ;  he 


262  FELICIA. 

was  persuaded  that  lie  would  receive  such  offers 
as  he  desired  for  another  season.  But  he  realized 
that  not  onee  had  he  done  himself  full  justice  ; 
not  once  had  he  sung  as  he  could  sing,  —  as  he 
sang  that  afternoon  to  the  empty  woods,  and  the 
coming  storm,  and  the  tender  heart  of  his  wife. 
It  was  a  very  subtle  difference,  but  very  strong, 
—  the  difference  between  excellence  and  exalta- 
tion. From  time  to  time,  as  the  weeks  wore  on, 
he  canvassed  within  himself  the  policy  of  saying 
something  of  this  to  Felicia.  Such  a  course  —  a 
direct  appeal  to  her  generosity  —  might  have 
been  wise  policy.  But  a  man  of  pride  is  likely  to 
find  a  certain  difficulty  in  submitting  to  his  wife, 
who  somewhat  ungraciously  protests  against  his 
vocation,  a  plea  for  her  smiles  as  a  factor  of  his 
success  in  that  vocation.  Caution,  too,  with- 
held him.  There  was  no  predicting  how  she 
might,  with  her  strong  feeling  upon  the  subject, 
receive  the  suggestion.  It  might  be  applying  fire 
to  the  fuse.  With  his  professional  existence  de- 
pendent in  a  great  measure  on  serenity,  it  would 
not  do  for  him  to  risk  explosions. 

Little  had  been  said  between  them,  of  late,  as 
to  his  professional  work,  but  that  little  had 
served  to  deepen  his  realization  of  her  objections. 
To  him  her  attitude  was  even  more  illogical  than 
heretofore.  There  was  some  talk,  about  the  be- 
ginning  of  the  regular  season  in  September,  of 
substituting,  during  the  coming  winter,  for  Prince 
Koderic,  which,  although  still  drawing  well,  was 


FELICIA.  233 

now  a  trifle  familiar  to  a  change-loving  public,  a 
new  work,  —  one  of  those  that  belong  to  what 
might  be  called  the  romantic-grotesque  school, 
which,  through  music  more  or  less  meritorious 
and  costumes  always  effective,  sometimes  gorgeous, 
has  reopened  fairyland  to  people  who  have  for- 
gotten the  fairyland  of  youth. 

When  Felicia  heard  this  suggestion  she  openly 
rebelled,  little  though  it  availed  her,  as  she  knew. 
Since  she  had  come  to  understand  something  of 
her  husband's  professional  life,  and  had  realized 
the  gap  between  his  estimate  of  his  capacity  and 
his  opportunity,  between  his  exacting  and  elevated 
musical  and  dramatic  sense  and  the  slightness  of 
the  compositions  to  which  he  must  devote  himself, 
she  had  experienced  an  extreme  irritation  for  his 
sake.  Intensely  as  she  deprecated  his  career, 
she  resented  as  intensely  that  he  did  not  at  least 
have  the  place  in  it  which  he  coveted.  His  accept- 
ance of  whatever  task  was  set  before  him,  as  a 
step  upward,  as  means  to  an  end  ;  his  respect  for 
his  own  work,  in  however  distasteful  a  guise  ;  his 
careful  and  conscientious  rendition  of  roles  un- 
worthy of  him,  almost  dismayed  her  ;  she  thought 
his  patience  tragical.  She  had  constrained  her- 
self to  say  as  little  of  this  as  she  might,  and  he 
did  not  divine  that  even  so  questionable  a  sympa- 
thy as  this  sort  of  partisanship  was  involved  in 
her  disapprobation  of  his  calling. 

In  regard  to  the  proposed  addition  to  his  reper- 
toire, however,  she  suddenly  abandoned  her  bitter 


264  FELICIA. 

neutrality.  She  was  deeply  agitated  when  she 
entreated  him  to  refuse  such  a  role.  To  his 
amazement,  the  objection  she  urged  was  that  the 
opera  was  amusing.  He  could  not  appreciate  her 
distinctions  when  she  seriously  declared  that  it 
was  more  endurable  to  sing  in  such  an  opera  as 
Prince  Roderic,  because  it  was  a  romantic  opera ; 
that  the  character  of  Prince  Roderic  was  digni- 
fied, and  even  noble.  She  insisted  that  there  is 
an  immense  difference  between  wit  and  fun,  — 
that  one  is  a  brilliant,  and  the  other  mere  paste ; 
that  it  is  admirable  to  be  witty,  and  odious  to  be 
funny ;  that  even  in  genteel  comedy,  while  the 
author  and  the  work  may  have  the  quality  of  wit, 
the  delineator  upon  the  stage  does  not  share  its 
dignity ;  he  is  only  funny,  is  only  comical. 

All  the  world  knows  more  or  less  of  that 
strange  contradiction  which  almost  suggests  the 
idea  of  a  dual  set  of  mental  qualifications  apper- 
taining to  the  histrionic  artist,  by  which  the  medi- 
ocre mind  suddenly  becomes  endowed  with  a  for- 
eign intellectuality,  the  trifler  conceives  heroism, 
the  jester  tragedy,  the  small  soul  invests  itself  in 
majesty.  Thus  Kennett,  the  gravest  and  most 
sedate  of  men,  held  as  an  instrument  the  strings 
of  mirth,  and  played  airily  upon  them  at  his  will, 
with  the  delicate  touch  of  the  born  comedian, 
with  irresistible  drollery,  with  incomparable  hu- 
mor. Felicia  had  often  meditated  on  this  phase 
of  his  talent,  so  strangely  at  variance  with  his  na- 
ture, and  with  that  massive,  heroic  histrionism 


FELICIA.  265 

•which  he  arrogated  to  himself.  Had  he  truly  the 
two  developments  of  the  dramatic  gift?  she  won- 
dered ;  or  did  he  mistake  himself,  —  would  his 
rendition  of  those  exalted  roles,  to  which  he  was 
so  sure  he  could  give  new  and  worthy  interpreta- 
tions, prove  only  clever  unconscious  imitations  ? 

With  her  contradictory  ambitions  for  him,  — 
all  at  war  with  her  sense  of  fitness,  —  she,  too, 
would  fain  have  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  great 
heights  of  the  profession.  And  so  the  lesser  gift 
was  unendurable  to  her,  —  that  a  turn  of  his 
head,  a  lift  of  his  eyebrows,  should  send  ripples 
of  laughter  over  the  house,  rising  into  peals  when 
he  chose.  When  she  further  reflected  on  the 
possible  make-up  in  the  roles  of  the  unknown  opera 
which  was  presently  to  be  put  in  rehearsal,  —  it 
was  rumored  already  a  marvel  of  melody  and  gro- 
tesqueness,  —  she  looked  at  him  piteously  through 
her  infrequent  tears,  declaring  that  it  would  be 
like  death  to  her  if  she  should  see  him  make  him- 
self ridiculous.  Surely,  she  insisted,  he  must  feel 
sufficiently  strong  in  his  position  to  stipulate  that 
he  should  have  only  serious  and  noble  characters 
like  Prince  Roderic. 

He  could  think  of  no  rational  reply,  except  that 
he  could  not  in  prudence  attempt  to  dictate  to  the 
management  as  to  the  cast.  With  his  lifelong 
habit  of  looking  at  such  matters  from  the  purely 
professional  standpoint,  he  could  only  consider 
these  views  of  hers  absurd. 

"  It  does  not  seem  to  me  a  very  fine  thing  to 


266  FELICIA. 

sing  the  roles  of  Assad  or  Lohengrin,  as  you  hope 
some  time  to  do.  But  this !  This  is  advancing 
backward.  Yet  you  think  you  are  ambitious  !  " 

He  winced ;  his  color  rose ;  he  bent  upou  her 
a  sparkling  eye. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  as  a  taunt,"  he  demanded, 
sharply,  "  because  I  get  on  slowly  ?  " 

She  made  no  reply;  she  had  turned  aside  her 
face  ;  he  could  see  the  tears  slipping  through  her 
fingers. 

Mindful  as  he  always  was  of  the  dictates  of 
policy,  these  might  not  have  restrained  him  now, 
so  intensely  was  he  irritated.  But  there  was 
something  in  her  attitude  so  piteous,  expressing  a 
grief  which  was  almost  desolation,  that  he  experi- 
enced a  revulsion  of  feeling ;  his  anger  vanished. 
He  took  her  cold  hand  in  his ;  he  kissed  her 
averted  cheek  ;  he  attempted  to  argue  the  matter. 
She  only  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  him.  He 
saw  how  far  too  deep  for  coaxing  or  reasons  was 
her  chagrin,  and  in  sheer  futility  his  words  died 
on  his  lips. 

The  recollection  of  this  scene  did  not  offer 
any  inducement  to  attempt  to  establish  more  sym- 
pathetic relations  as  to  his  professional  work. 
Further  considerations  added  their  weight,  —  not 
perhaps  distinctly  acknowledged  to  himself,  but 
vaguely  appreciated.  He  was  beginning  to  feel 
that  for  other  reasons  the  divergence  between 
them  was  widening.  In  a  matter  of  importance 
to  them  both,  the  matter  of  economy,  it  seemed 


FELICIA.  267 

impossible  that  they  should  act  in  accord.  He 
had,  with  reluctance  and  misgivings,  broached 
the  subject  of  his  financial  condition.  At  first  he 
was  greatly  relieved  that  she  received  the  com- 
munication with  composure  and  philosophy,  and 
promised  readily  that  she  would  spend  as  little 
money  as  possible.  It  was  only  by  degrees  that 
he  learned  that  economy,  like  other  sciences,  is 
not  to  be  picked  up  in  a  day.  In  order  to  cut  off 
superfluities  it  is  necessary  to  recognize  them  as 
superfluities.  It  seemed  to  him  unaccountable 
that  her  ideas  should  be  so  vague.  Expenses 
which,  in  his  opinion,  the  merest  common  sense 
should  have  suggested  the  propriety  of  curtailing 
were  allowed  to  continue,  while  others,  which  were 
as  plainly  necessary,  she  proposed  eliminating. 
Her  lavishness  was  not  so  much  an  expression  of 
self-indulgence  as  an  expression  of  taste,  and  this 
fact  added  another  complication  to  the  puzzle  of 
her  attitude.  He  could  not  understand  why  she 
so  often  unreasonably  and  spasmodically  indulged 
her  whims,  when  she  was  evidently  capable  of  re- 
linquishing them  lightly  and  without  regret.  The 
explanation  was  the  simplest  and  most  prosaic 
possible.  To  arrange  expenditure  so  judiciously 
as  to  reduce  self-denial  to  the  minimum  is  only  to 
be  learned  through  practice.  Felicia  had  had  no 
such  practice.  To  her  economy  meant  depriva- 
tion. She  could  endure,  when  she  happened  to 
remember  his  injunctions,  to  give  up  what  she 
liked  ;  she  did  not  know  how  to  arrange  to  attain 
what  she  most  liked. 


268  FELICIA. 

She  had  no  realization  that  she  was  inconsistent 
and  thoughtless  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  evident 
that  she  was  in  good  faith  disposed  to  take  to  her- 
self credit  for  moderation.  She  showed  him  one 
day,  for  example,  a  wrap  which  she  had  just 
bought,  and  seemed  to  expect  him  to  be  gratified 
that  it  cost  fifteen  dollars  less  than  another  which 
she  had  preferred.  "  The  one  at  sixty-five  had 
much  more  cfric,"  she  remarked,  contemplatively, 
as  she  held  it  up,  "  but  this  will  have  to  do." 

"That  little  affair  cost  fifty  dollars!"  he  ex- 
claimed, aghast.  "  Surely,  Felicia,  you  don't 
need  so  expensive  a  wrap.  Why  can't  you  wear 
the  one  you  bought  last  spring  until  it  is  cold 
enough  for  your  cloak  ?  " 

"  I  wore  that  all  the  spring,  and  the  trimming 
on  this  is  much  prettier  ;  indeed,  it  is  quite  a  new 
idea.  I  had  to  get  something  to  wear  with  my 
dark  silk  dresses,"  she  had  replied,  looking  at 
him  with  clear,  convincing  eyes.  "  A  severely 
plain  walking  costume  isn't  always  suitable,  you 
know.  And  fifty  dollars  is  very  reasonable  for 
such  a  dolman  as  this." 

He  could  not  argue  tho  matter.  He  too  was 
subject  to  heavy  demands  from  the  tyranny  of 
fashion.  It  was  part  of  his  stock  in  trade  to  be 
always  exceptionally  well  dressed  and  prosperous 
looking,  off  as  well  as  on  the  stage.  He  could 
not  estimate  her  needs,  but  he  experienced  much 
irritation  when,  after  a  long  silence,  in  which  she 
was  evidently  thinking  deeply,  she  rose,  opened 


FELICIA.  269 

the  wardrobe,  and  placed  beside  the  new  wrap  the 
one  he  had  mentioned. 

"After  all,"  she  said,  meditatively,  "there  is 
very  little  difference  in  style.  I  wish  I  had  not 
bought  this.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  at  the  time, 
but  I  could  have  managed  without  it." 

"  You  should  have  considered  that  earlier,  now 
that  you  understand  our  circumstances,"  he  said. 

He  thought  her  carelessness  culpable ;  she 
thought  his  look  and  tone  of  cold  reproof  unwar- 
rantably severe. 

Such  episodes  did  not  tend  to  reestablish  har- 
mony between  them.  She  felt  that  he  did  not 
appreciate  the  efforts  she  made  to  meet  his  views, 
and  it  might  have  been  well  if  her  chagrin  be- 
cause of  this  had  expressed  itself  in  tears  and  re- 
proaches. He  could  not  gauge  her  intention ; 
her  constraint  of  manner  impressed  him  as  insen- 
sibility ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  her  acquiescence 
had  been  merely  a  matter  of  form,  and  that  her 
course  argued  an  extreme  indifference  to  his 
wishes.  This  was  the  more  bitter  as  he  had  be- 
come far  more  harassed  than  she  supposed, — 
what  involved  man  ever  tells  his  wife  all  his  af- 
fairs !  Kennett  had  said  he  was  afraid  of  getting 
into  debt,  and  he  was  in  debt;  not  very  deeply  as 
yet,  it  is  true,  but  these  things  are  relative.  His 
resources  were  slight,  and  under  these  circum- 
stances a  small  debt  is  a  large  one*  The  money 
he  had  made  in  that  unexpected  prosperous  sum- 
mer "  season  "  was  already  gone,  —  how,  he  could 


270  FELICIA. 

hardly  say.  He  felt  that  it  might  be  wise  policy 
to  go  over  the  whole  ground  with  Felicia,  and  tell 
her  frankly  how  he  stood  ;  but,  with  the  illogical 
perversity  of  the  man  who  is  the  prey  of  financial 
anxiety,  he  upbraided  her  severely  in  his  thoughts, 
because  of  her  indifference  to  those  troubles  of  his 
which  she  did  not  know,  as  well  as  her  supposed 
insensibility  to  those  of  which  he  had  told  her. 
He  shrank  from  further  talk  on  the  subject,  and 
put  it  off  from  day  to  day.  It  appeared  to  him 
now  that  he  had  made  a  serious  mistake  in  not 
securing  her  hearty  cooperation  in  this  matter  of 
economy  in  the  early  time  of  their  marriage, 
when,  as  he  believed,  his  influence  was  much 
stronger  than  now. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  even  mentally  she  had 
become  strangely  at  variance  with  her  former  self. 
He  remembered  the  interest  she  had  felt  in  the 
drama  of  life  as  it  was  enacted  before  her ;  its 
slightest  episode  gave  her  food  for  thought,  for 
comparisons,  conjectures,  conclusions.  No  hu- 
man beings  were  too  insignificant  to  attract  from 
her  a  certain  contemplative  attention,  as  being  re- 
sults of  that  great  experiment,  Circumstance,  and 
as  carrying  within  them,  however  superior,  or 
commonplace,  or  sordid  their  environment,  the 
burning  fire  of  regret  or  aspiration,  the  ache 
of  disappointment,  the  bloom  of  joy  or  of  hope. 
Now  she  saw  no  dramas ;  she  interpreted  no  more 
lives.  She  had  lost  her  unconsciously  semi-philo- 
sophic attitude.  If,  by  chance,  seeking  to  rouse 


FELICIA.  271 

her  interest,  he  directed  her  attention  to  some  in- 
cident denoting  character,  which  she  would  in  that 
former  time  have  found  suggestive,  she  gave  it  a 
perfunctory  notice,  soon  displaced  by  her  own  ab- 
sorbing personal  musings.  She  even  seemed  an- 
tagonistic to  those  human  sympathies.  Once  she 
said  to  him  with  bitterness  that  it  would  have 
been  appropriate,  considering  how  very  tiresome 
it  is  to  see  so  many  strangers,  that  a  plague  of 
Faces  should  have  been  sent  upon  the  Egyptians 
in  addition  to  the  plagues  of  locusts  and  frogs. 
He  did  not  fully  apprehend  the  significance  of 
this  development  of  her  character.  Strange  that 
he,  so  thoroughly  accustomed  to  the  dramatic 
world,  should  not  have  realized  so  obvious  a  mat- 
ter as  the  difference  between  the  standpoint,  the 
outlook,  of  spectator  and  of  actor. 

In  his  augmented  anxieties  he  was  denied  the 
relief  of  irritability,  which,  bitter  though  it  may 
be,  is  in  some  sort  a  safety  valve.  It  had  long 
been  his  creed  that  serenity  is  of  the  first  impor- 
tance to  a  singer.  The  habit  of  self-control  stood 
him  in  good  stead  in  one  sense  :  he  did  not  have 
to  contend  against  the  exhausting  effect  upon  the 
nerves  of  outbreaks  of  temper.  But  the  strenuous 
restraint  involved  also  a  sense  of  effort,  and  he 
began  to  suffer  from  a  depression  which  became 
more  and  more  paralyzing.  Under  its  influence 
he  saw  only  the  dark  side  of  his  affairs,  and  he 
vaguely  presaged  calamity :  that  his  work  would 
become  mechanical ;  that  his  voice  would  lose  its 


272  FELICIA. 

magnetism,  his  acting  its  spontaneity ;  that  his 
popularity  would  wane  or  his  health  would  fail. 

He  made  the  best  fight  he  could  against  his 
increasing  morbidness,  but  in  those  days  heavy 
cares  beset  him,  and  he  grew  very  taciturn  and 
thoughtful. 

That  year  the  autumn  came  on  early,  with  long 
cold  rains  and  leaden  clouds  which  the  sun  did 
not  penetrate  for  weeks.  The  continuous  drip- 
ping, dripping,  of  the  rain  seemed  to  extinguish 
by  degrees  all  the  fire  in  Felicia's  nature.  As  a 
last  resort  for  occupation  she  had  addicted  herself 
to  fancy-work,  and  the  endless  plying  of  a  crochet 
or  an  embroidery  needle  dulled  without  soothing 
her.  The  work  was  as  spiritless  as  that  of  a  tread- 
mill, for  she  had  little  interest  in  the  results, 
which  were  in  truth  of  doubtful  value,  —  this  was 
another  art  in  which  she  was  not  proficient. 
When  she  had  completed  a  miraculous  tidy  or 
"  banner,"  she  would  listlessly  push  it  away,  reas- 
sort  h«r  materials,  and  languidly  begin  another. 
Often  as  not  she  left  these  trophies  of  her  skill  at 
the  hotel,  upon  her  departure,  and  the  admiring 
chambermaid  regarded  them  as  a  godsend. 

They  continued  habitues  of  the  first-class  hotels. 
Kennett,  however,  still  casting  about  for  means 
of  cutting  down  expenses,  had  fallen  into  the 
habit  of  engaging  rooms  in  the  upper  stories  of 
those  caravansaries  which  made  desirability  of 
location  a  matter  of  price.  While  comfortable, 
these  rooms  were  not  so  luxurious  as  those  on  the 


FELICIA.  273 

lower  floors,  and  somehow  their  elevation  added 
to  their  dismaluess.  When  the  dense  clouds 
rested  on  the  cornices  of  the  roofs  opposite,  and 
the  street  lamps  were  merely  a  yellow  blur  in  the 
thick-falling;  rain,  and  the  wind  swept  around  the 
corner  with  a  dreary  moan,  the  sense  of  isolation 
was  complete.  Then  Felicia,  sitting  alone,  would 
let  her  hands  and  party-colored  worsteds  fall 
upon  her  lap  and  wonder  piteously  at  the  strange 
sarcasm  of  her  fate.  She  would  say  to  herself 
bitterly  that  she  had  no  mother,  no  sister;  her 
father  had  cast  her  off ;  her  brother  hated  —  no, 
scorned  her ;  she  had  not  a  friend  to  whom  she 
could  go  for  comfort  or  companionship ;  her  place 
in  the  world  was,  in  her  estimation,  uncouthly  in- 
congruous. Once  she  had  hoped  that  God  would 
send  her  children.  Now  she  told  herself  that  it 
would  be  .well  if  this  should  never  fall  to  her  lot. 
Every  blessing  proved  for  her  a  bane.  He  had 
given  her  beauty,  wealth,  health,  friends,  love,  — 
to  what  end  ?  To  have  tears  as  comrades  and 
bitter  thoughts  as  her  part  in  life  ;  to  be  as  dis- 
tinctly alone  in  this  busy,  throbbing,  eager  world 
as  if  she  were  indeed  cast  away  on  a  desert  island, 
in  the  midst  of  a  lonely  sea.  So  her  griefs  as- 
serted themselves  and  took  possession  of  her. 
The  gas  flared,  and  the  rain  trickled  down  the 
window-panes,  and  the  wind  moaned  about  the 
room  perched  up  so  close  against  the  black  cloud ; 
while  Kennett,  half  a  dozen  squares  away,  with 
a  light  heart  or  a  heavy,  it  mattered  not  which, 


274  FELICIA. 

splendid  and  glittering-  in  crimson  and  stage  jew- 
els, posed  before  the  footlights,  and  sang  of  love 
or  revenge,  and  stabbed  himself  or  his  rival,  as 
circumstances  required,  with  propriety,  precision, 
and  a  stage  dagger. 

About  this  time  she  became  conscious  of  a  bit- 
ter experience,  —  she  became  conscious  that  she 
had  relinquished  a  standpoint  which  once  she 
had  esteemed  of  worth.  The  worldly-mindedness 
which  her  father  had  deplored  in  her  nature  had 
so  far  expressed  itself  in  a  definite  appreciation 
of  the  insignia  of  worldly  values,  —  environment, 
high-breeding,  luxury,  culture.  Now  it  seemed 
to  her  that  she  went  further  than  this  ;  she  felt 
that  money  was  in  itself  a  fine  thing  ;  that  it  was 
a  first  necessity  to  be  rich  and  highly  placed. 
Once  she  would  have  said  it  was  well  to  be  at 
ease  in  regard  to  money  ;  that  appropriate  sur- 
roundings, beautiful  dress,  and  associates  of  ele- 
vated social  station  were  the  charming  incidents 
of  a  fortunate  position  in  life,  but  to  care  inordi- 
nately for  these  things  was  vulgar ;  they  should 
be  a  matter  of  course  if  one  had  them,  a  matter 
of  slight  consequence  if  one  had  them  not ;  they 
were  accessories.  She  had  arrogated  to  herself 
some  credit  that  she  could  thus  regard  the  matter. 
Once  she  had  been  capable  of  the  resolve  to  look 
upon  the  men  and  women  about  her  as  human 
beings,  apart  from  their  station  ;  now  she  disdain- 
fully refused  to  make  such  effort ;  she  was  con- 
scious only  of  their  solecisms,  their  professional 


FELICIA.  275 

and  other  slang,  their  Bohemianism,  —  even  their 
shabbiness  of  dress  in  the  dishevelment  of  rail- 
way trains  and  hasty  appearances  at  hotel  tables. 
Contradictorily,  this  angered  her  against  herself, 
and  she  would  upbraid  herself  as  a  snob.  She 
would  ask  herself  how  it  was  that  she,  who  was 
of  this  stratum  of  society,  should  ally  herself  in 
thought  and  feeling  with  the  class  who  would 
scornfully  reject  her  could  they  suspect  such  pre- 
sumption ;  that  she,  who  had  no  position,  should 
so  vividly  appreciate  the  position  of  fortunate 
people  ;  that  she,  who  was  a  wanderer  and  home- 
less, should  look  with  wistful  eyes  at  the  showy, 
spacious  city  mansions,  the  big  comfortable  su- 
burban villas,  of  magnates  like  her  father  and 
brother,  her  social  superiors,  and  picture  to  her- 
self the  life  encompassed  by  those  imposing  and 
solid  walls. 

It  was  a  many-faceted  emotional  experience 
she  was  undergoing  with  such  stolidity  of  de- 
meanor as  she  could  command.  Kenuett  did  not 
apprehend  it  in  its  entirety  ;  he  might  only  real- 
ize the  phase  immediately  presented.  His  deduc- 
tions, sufficiently  bitter  and  in  one  sense  correct, 
did  not  put  him  fully  in  possession  of  her  trou- 
blous heart  and  mind.  Yet,  so  far  as  he  could 
judge,  her  whole  state  of  feeling  was  revealed  to 
him  one  night  when,  in  their  progress  through 
the  South,  they  entered  the  city  to  which  the  little 
town  of  Blankburg,  her  former  home,  was  contig- 
uous and  tributary.  There  had  been  a  railway 


276  FELICIA. 

accident,  —  a  freight  train  in  front  of  them  had 
been  wrecked,  —  and  they  did  not  arrive  till  af- 
ter midnight.  As  they  drove  from  the  depot  to 
the  hotel,  her  consciousness  was  impressed  with 
the  strong  sentiment  of  place,  so  indefinable,  yet 
so  tyrannous.  How  was  it  that  even  the  obscu- 
rity of  night,  which  might  seem  the  full  expres- 
sion of  nullity,  was  so  distinctly  imbued  with  the 
flavor  of  locality!  The  taste  of  the  soft,  bland 
air  as  she  inhaled  it,  the  drawling  intonation  of 
voices  on  the  street,  even  the  sights  and  sounds 
common  to  all  railroad  termini,  were  as  if  inalien- 
ably characteristic  of  this  place  only  among  so 
many  similar  places,  and  suggested  vividly  to  her, 
with  inexpressible  melancholy  and  remoteness,  an- 
other life  lout  of  which  she  seemed  to  have  died. 

It  chanced  that  they  were  detained  in  the  press 
of  vehicles  in  front  of  a  dwelling  which  was 
lighted  from  garret  to  cellar,  evidently  the  scene 
of  festivity.  During  the  stoppage  the  window  of 
their  carriage  gave  a  full  view  of  the  occupants 
of  another  carriage  close  by.  So  close  were  they 
that  every  feature  of  two  young  girls  within  it 
was  distinctly  visible  in  the  yellow  light  from  the 
street  lamp.  They  were  dressed  in  fleecy  fabrics, 
with  much  airy  effect  of  laces  and  suggestive 
bloom  of  flowers.  They  had  gentle,  candid  eyes 
and  fair  hair  ;  their  voices  had  a  soft,  suave  qual- 
ity and  a  distinct  drawl,  as  they  spoke  to  the 
sleek,  dapper  young  fellows  with  downy  mus- 
taches, and  very  point-device  as  to  dress,  who 


FELICIA.  277 

were  lingering  with  adieux  and  last  words  at  the 
carriage  door.  They  all  laughed  appreciatively 
at  mutual  witticisms,  and  were  evidently  enjoying 
with  all  the  capacity  of  their  natures  every  mo- 
ment of  the  occasion.  Other  ladies  and  gentle- 
men in  festal  attire  were  descending  the  steps ; 
adieux,  and  laughter,  and  the  confusion  of  coach- 
men's voices,  and  conflicting  orders,  were  on  the 
air;  evidently  the  moment  of  dispersion  had 
arrived,  although  the  music  of  a  band  was  still 
audible  through  the  open  windows. 

Felicia  felt  acutely  that  she  was  looking  on 
with  some  of  the  spirit  animating  the  loafers 
about  the  sidewalk,  standing  agape  as  the  fine 
folks  filed  down  the  steps,  —  a  sense  of  utter 
exclusion,  of  admiration,  of  distance;  and  were 
these  also  admixed  with  envy  and  bitterness  ? 

The  jam  was  over ;  the  carriages  were  moving 
slowly  apart ;  the  eyes  of  the  young  girls  met  hers 
with  a  long,  friendly  look.  She  could  see  that 
they  were  about  her  own  age,  and  how  old  she 
felt !  •  Somehow,  that  moment  of  fellowship  with 
them  was  sweet  to  her.  She  glanced  back  over 
her  shoulder  at  them,  a  half  smile  on  her  lips. 

"  How  happy  they  are  !  "  she  said. 

"  And  how  frivolous !  "  added  Kennett,  as  the 
buoyant  laughter  of  the  callow  beaux  split  the  air. 

The  carriage  rolled  on  into  the  darkness.     The 

O 

sound  of  music  and  the  murmur  of  voices  died 
away. 

"  After  all,"  said  Kennett,  sharply,  "  the  flesh- 
pots  of  Egypt  are  precious  to  you  yet  I  " 


278  FELICIA. 

She  too  spoke  sharply.  "  Especially  as  the 
supply  of  manna  is  rather  meagre  in  my  in- 
stance," she  said. 

Tears  had  rushed  to  her  eyes,  but  he  did  not 
see  them.  He  looked  gloomily  out  of  the  window 
at  the  distant  gas  jets  jeweling  the  darkness, 
stretching  in  two  long  lines  across  the  bridge, 
and  disappearing  on  ths  opposite  shore.  He 
could  credit  her  only  with  the  most  obvious  and 
primary  sentiment  implied  by  her  words  and  man- 
ner, —  that  she  realized  acutely  all  she  had  re- 
nounced ;  especially,  it  seemed  to  him,  its  more 
trivial  and  least  worthy  values.  He  did  not  re- 
member that  to  her  these  trivial  values  had  ex- 
traneous worth  as  exponents  of  a  status.  He  had 
conceived  the  idea  of  exile,  in  a  sense.  He  could 
give  the  character  of  expatriated  prince  a  profes- 
sional "  reading ; "  but  the  real  thing  is  a  devel- 
opment only  to  be  fairly  apprehended  by  actual 
trial.  It  is  a  unique  experience,  not  to  be  com- 
passed at  second  hand.  Kennett  was  breathing 
his  native  air;  he  could  not  fully  interpret  ban- 
ishment. 

The  troupe  had  gone  South  from  the  Eastern 
cities  by  way  of  Washington,  and  as  the  route 
took  them  from  New  Orleans  northward  they  ex- 
perienced rapid  climatic  changes.  It  had  been 
something  of  a  trial  to  Felicia,  the  previous  sea- 
son, to  spend  two  weeks  in  Chilounatti.  The  es* 
trangement  from  her  brother  and  his  children  had 
then  been  a  great  grief  to  her,  bitterly  as  she  had 


FELICIA.  279 

resented  his  opposition  to  her  marriage.  Now  it 
was  far  worse.  The  realization  of  their  close  prox- 
imity came  upon  her  sore  heart  with  a  new,  heavy 
weight.  She  would  stand  at  her  window,  when 
Kennett  had  gone  to  the  theatre,  looking  from 
her  great  height,  and  attempt  to  single  out  one 
roof  in  the  sunshine  in  the  sea  of  roofs,  or  one 
yellow  spark  in  the  darkness  among  the  great 
constellation  of  yellow  gleams.  She  often  had  a 
tyrannous  impulse  to  walk  in  that  direction,  with 
a  shrinking  hope  that  she  might,  unseen,  see  her 
brother,  or  his  wife,  or  the  children  ;  then  she 
would  recoil  from  the  half-formed  intention,  in 
terror  lest  she  should  be  recognized  and  ignored. 
She  pictured  to  herself  their  routine,  —  dull,  per- 
haps, but  constantly  widening  since  the  days  when 
she  made  a  part  of  it ;  simple  and  seemly,  with 
its  recognized  duties,  and  appropriate  pleasures, 
and  the  passing  zest  of  its  incidents. 

Her  experience  of  life  was  not  such  as  to  sug- 
gest the  sardonic  consolation  that  matters  were 
no  w.orse,  and  that  her  lot  had  even  certain  pro- 
saic alleviations.  In  the  long  segregation,  during 
those  years  at  Sevier  Institute,  from  the  atmos- 
phere of  domestic  existence,  the  married  state 
had  been  presented  but  slightly  to  her  contempla- 
tion. She  had  speculated  vaguely  upon  that  for- 
eign land  seen  through  the  haze  of  preliminary 
romance,  and  even  her  observation  of  domestic 
life  in  John  Hamilton's  household  had  failed  to 
dispel  certain  rose-tinted  illusions.  It  was  barely 


280  FELICIA. 

possible,  however,  that  Sophie  was  conscious  that 
the  matrimonial  yoke  could  gain  a  galling  quality 
in  the  good-natured  tyranny  of  a  headstrong  hus- 
band. In  other  happy  women,  a  certain  deftness 
in  conciliating  might  have  suggested  the  idea  that 
this  suave  influence  is  of  value  in  a  life  in  which 
masculine  temper,  not  being  repressed  in  defer- 
ence to  a  stringent  professional  system,  may  be- 
come a  distinctly  assertive  element.  It  did  not 
occur  to  Felicia  to  congratulate  herself  that  her 
husband  regarded  her  au  grand  serieux,  —  not 
merely  as  a  dear  soul,  and  in  some  sort  humor- 
ously ;  or  that  he  controlled  his  temper ;  or  that 
his  qualities  of  mind  and  heart  were  not,  as  in 
cousin  Robert's  case,  only  adjuncts,  in  fastidious 
estimation,  to  personal  peculiarities  and  eccen- 
tricities. Unluckily,  she  too  took  herself  au 
grand  serieux ;  and  for  the  rest,  she  had  not 
thought  to  compare  her  husband  with  other  men. 
Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  if  her  attitude 
had  not  been  so  lofty.  Such  a  comparison  is  a 
prosaic  process,  but  it  has  uses.  She  realized  no 
palliations ;  to  her  the  conditions  were  intolerable. 
She  was  very  unhappy. 

Her  case  suggests  a  puzzle.  Have  we  one  set 
of  theories  in.  principle,  and  another  set  for  prac- 
tice ?  Is  it  our  expressed  creed  that  the  inmost 
self,  which  is  made  of  emotions,  principles,  senti- 
ments, that  complex  essence  which  we  may  call 
Soul,  should  in  all  right  thinking  and  in  all  right 
action  rise  superior  to  Circumstance ;  and,  in  pro- 
saic truth,  is  Circumstance  lord  of  Soul  ? 


XIV. 

THE  monotony  of  a  long  November  rain,  drip- 
ping, dripping  down  the  window,  was  broken  at 
last,  and  one  night  the  darkness  was  pervaded  by 
indefinable  murmurs,  a  vague  sense  of  continuous 
movement,  a  soft,  semi-metallic  clicking  as  of  crys- 
tal faintly  responsive  to  crystal ;  and  when  morn- 
ing broke  the  ground  was  deeply  covered  with  the 
first  snow  of  the  season. 

Its  advent  was  most  welcome,  to  judge  from  the 
number  of  sleighs  seen  early  on  the  streets.  To- 
ward noon  these  were  even  more  frequent,  and 
sleighing  parties  were  rapidly  organized,  —  on  the 
principle,  perhaps,  of  making  hay  while  the  sun 
shines.  For  so  deep  a  "  dry  snow  "  was  rare,  and 
in  this  capricious  climate  the  length  of  its  con- 
tinuance on  the  ground  was  a  matter  of  the  wild- 
est conjecture. 

On  Keunett's  return  from  rehearsal  he  brought 
suggestions  of  festivity.  A  certain  Mr.  Foxley, 
well  known  in  social  circles,  ambitious  to  be  con- 
sidered particularly  aufait  in  matters  pertaining 
to  music  and  the  drama,  and  well  up  in  worldly 
affairs  in  general,  had  invited  the  more  notable 
members  of  the  troupe  to  join  him  in  a  sleigh-ride 
and  a  subsequent  refection,  pledging  himself  to 


282  FELICIA. 

get  them  back  to  the  theatre  in  time  for  the  even- 
ing performance.  Kennett  had  accepted  the  in- 
vitation, and  hurried  off  before  lunch. 

Felicia  consoled  herself  bitterly  with  the  reflec- 
tion that  a  few  lonely  hours  more  or  less  were  of 
little  consequence,  in  a  life  made  up  of  gradations 
of  unhappiness. 

After  her  solitary  meal,  as  she  stood  at  her  win- 
dow looking  down  at  the  street,  she  realized  the 
tempting  quality  of  the  brilliant  clear  sunshine 
and  the  cheerful  aspect  of  the  thoroughfare.  She 
glanced  in  indecision  at  the  worsteds  on  the  table, 
debating  in  her  mind  the  value  of  fancy-work  as 
a  resource,  this  afternoon,  in  comparison  with  a 
stroll.  Finally  she  put  on  her  hat  and  wraps,  and 
set  out.  Depressed  as  she  was,  the  exhilaration 
of  the  air  and  the  vivacity  of  the  scene,  the  passing 
groups  and  swift  vehicles,  had  their  tonic  effect. 
Her  mood  lightened  ;  she  looked  about  with  inter- 
est ;  she  walked  more  briskly.  The  air  was  balmy, 
almost  warm,  although  a  thaw  had  not  yet  set  in. 
The  sky  was  intensely  blue.  Long  shafts  of  yel- 
low sunshine  struck  adown  the  street.  The  light 
clouds  about  the  west  were  slowly  growing  crim- 
son, and  were  flecked  here  and  there  with  brilliant 
golden  flakes.  Much  of  this  afternoon  radiance, 
falling  in  a  broad  sheet  upon  the  plate-glass  win- 
dows, was  reflected  back  in  dazzling  sheen ;  and  as 
Felicia  passed  the  establishment  of  a  well-known 
dealer  in-  pictures,  she  was  only  indefinitely  con- 
scious of  something  vaguely  familiar  in  the  look 


FELICIA.  283 

and  attitude  of  a  man  who  lounged  against  the 
nickel-plated  railing  and  gazed  at  the  engravings 
displayed  within. 

He  turned  suddenly,  and  as  his  eyes  fell  upon 
her  he  addressed  her  abruptly,  making  a  some- 
what negligent  pretense  of  lifting  his  hat. 

"You  going  to  give  me  the  cut,  too?"  he  asked. 

It  was  her  natural  kindly  impulse  to  remove 
any  discomfort  he  might  experience  because  she 
had  not  recognized  him.  It  was  her  grace  of 
breeding  that  unluckily  caused  her  apology  to  do 
this  so  efficiently  and  so  cordially  that  Abbott,  en- 
tirely placated,  was  moved  to  stroll  along  the 
sidewalk  with  her. 

She  found  a  certain  hardship  in  thus  accepting 
his  escort.  She  had  always  been  fastidious  as  to 
her  choice  of  associates.  Under  no  circumstances 
would  she  have  patiently  endured  his  companion- 
ship, —  to-day  least  of  all ;  yet  she  was  sensible 
of  an  excessive  humiliation  that  she  should  expe- 
rience so  intense  a  panic  lest  her  brother  or  his 
wife,  or  any  of  her  few  acquaintances  in  Chilou- 
natti,  should  chance  to  meet  her  walking  with  her 
husband's  most  intimate  friend.  He  was  shabby, 
—  shabbier  than  usual.  His  shoes  were  un- 
blacked,  his  hat  unbrushed.  He  had  been  drink- 
ing ;  his  eyes  were  bloodshot.  He  was  evidently 
in  the  state  in  which  a  man  is  both  captious  and 
plaintive. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  he  declared,  thrusting 
his  hands  into  his  overcoat  pockets,  —  "  I  '11  tell 


284  FELICIA. 

you  what  it  is  :  if  a  man  has  got  no  money,  he  'd 
better  die.  Prussic  at-id  don't  cost  miK'.h,  and  the 
outlay  for  a  coffin  is  a  permanent  investment.  He 
don't  have  to  be  paying  that  every  week,  like  the 
butcher's  bill.  There  is  no  place  in  this  world 
for  a  poor  man.  It 's  a  pretty  big  world,  but 
there  's  no  room  in  it  for  the  fellow  with  the 
empty  purse.  Look  at  that  chap  Foxley,  for  in- 
stance. What  in  the  name  of  sense  would  he  be 
without  his  money  ?  And  he  knows  it.  He  values 
himself  for  nothing  but  his  money.  He  don't 
respect  anything  but  money.  What  does  he  care 
for  Kennett  or  Preston,  do  you  suppose  ?  But 
Preston  is  one  by  himself,  and  what  he  has  he  can 
afford  to  spend  on  himself,  and  wear  good  clothes, 
and  cut  a  dash.  And  Kennett  has  married  rich, 
and  always  looks  about  right.  And  Hallet  is  the 
manager,  and  makes  money.  That 's  all  Foxley 
cares  for.  He  pretends  to  know  something  about 
music.  He  don't.  He  's  got  no  use  for  anything 
but  money.  And  if  a  man  's  got  no  money  he 
may  go  hang,  for  all  Mr.  Henry  Foxley  cares." 

Felicia  understood  his  pitiful  grievance.  He 
had  been  neglected  in  the  invitation  to  the  after- 
noon festivity.  It  was  hard  for  her  to  bear  a 
part  in  a  conversation  like  this.  She  attempted 
to  evolve  some  commonplace  to  the  effect  that  we 
have  good  authority  for  the  belief  that  the  love  of 
money  is  the  root  of  all  enl.  But  he  interrupted 
her,  evidently  valuing  more  the  opportunity  to  air 
his  woes  than  her  consolation. 


*•  FELICIA.  285 

"  I  guess  you  don't  know  much  about  it,"  he 
said,  sourly.  "  You  've  had  nothing  but  the  soft 
side  of  life  so  far,  —  the  roses,  and  the  lilies,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing.  It 's  easy  enough  to  be 
contented  and  smiling  when  you  've  got  every- 
thing heart  can  wish.  But  how  do  you  suppose  a 
man  feels  when  he  knows  he  's  looked  down  on 
and  sat  on  by  his  inferiors  ?  Oh,  I  tell  you  a 
man  had  better  be  dead  than  carry  a  flat  pocket- 
book  ! " 

He  laughed,  and  scowled,  and  took  out  his 
purse,  which  was  indeed  rather  flat,  tossing  it  up 
and  down  and  catching  it  with  deftness  as  he 
walked. 

"  Bless  you,"  he  added,  "  sometimes  I  am  actu- 
ally minus  a  nickel  for  street-car  fare." 

She  wondered  if  he  were  ever  minus  a  nickel 
for  a  "schooner"  of  beer;  she  thought  not,  judg- 
ing from  the  puffy  appearance  of  his  eyelids  and 
cheeks,  indicative  of  devotion  to  that  sort  of  liquid 
consolation  for  the  woes  of  life.  She  scorned  her- 
self that  her  heart  should  flutter  as  it  did  a  mo- 
ment later.  She  felt  her  breath  come  fast ;  her 
limbs  trembled ;  her  voice  was  unsteady. 

"  This  is  the  library,"  she  said,  suddenly.  "  I 
am  going  in  here."  She  turned  sharply,  and  be- 
gan to  ascend  the  stairs.  She  had  not  intended 
to  make  a  visit  to  the  library  an  incident  of  the 
afternoon's  excursion ;  but  advancing  toward  her 
was  one  of  the  solid  and  stolid  old  gentlemen  she 
had  met  at  her  brother's  house.  She  felt  almost 


286  FELICIA. 

sure  that  he  would  not  remember  her.  She  felt 
perfectly  sure  that  she  could  not  risk  the  possi- 
bility. To  her  chagrin,  Abbott  accompanied  her 
into  the  building',  and  as  they  ascended  the  stairs 
together  he  remarked  that  he  did  n't  know  that 
strangers  could  go  to  this  swell  library.  Appar- 
ently he  considered  the  privilege  very  valuable, 
and  seemed  to  felicitate  himself  011  the  accidental 
opportunity. 

Felicia  reflected  in  increased  annoyance  that  it 
was  more  probable  she  would  be  recognized  by 
the  librarian  or  some  of  his  assistants,  as  she  had 
once  been  an  habitue  of  the  institution,  than  by 
the  absent-minded  old  gentleman  she  had  so  anx- 
iously avoided.  Had  it  not  come  to  a  strange 
pass,  she  asked  herself  in  extreme  impatience, 
that  she  should  skulk  about ;  that  she  should  seek 
to  hide  from  the  people  she  had  once  known,  as 
if  she  had  indeed  something  of  which  to  be 
ashamed,  —  as  if  she  merited  the  contempt  that 
she  feared  ? 

She  did  not  go  into  the  reading-room,  realizing 
that  it  would  probably  be  difficult  to  induce  Ab- 
bott to  comply  with  the  regulations  requiring  si- 
lence. She  threw  herself  into  a  seat  in  an  alcove, 
and  Abbott  took  the  place  beside  her. 

"  Won't  you  catch  cold  here  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Shall  I  close  the  window  ?  " 

The  room  had  been  overheated,  and  several  of 
the  windows  had  been  put  up,  among  them  the 
one  by  which  they  sat.  She  replied  that  she  pre- 


FELICIA.  287 

ferred  the  air,  reflecting  that  perhaps,  on  account 
of  his  voice,  he  would  be  alarmed  by  the  possi- 
bility of  taking  cold  himself,  and  leave  her.  He 
seemed,  however,  to  have  no  such  fear,  as  he 
lounged  in  his  place  and  resumed  his  talk.  It 
was  much  in  the  same  vein  as  before,  and  she 
settled  herself  to  endure  it  with  what  fortitude 
she  might.  Her  absent  eyes  rested  now  on  the 
silent,  motionless  figures,  seeu  through  the  vistas 
of  open  doors,  in  the  reading-room  ;  now  on  the 
softly  moving  officials  coming  and  going ;  now  on 
the  pictures  and  groups  of  statuary  near  at  hand ; 
now  on  the  wall  of  the  building  across  the  street. 
In  this  building  there  was  a  window  on  a  level 
with  the  one  by  which  she  was  sitting,  and  its  sash 
also  was  thrown  up.  Felicia  listened  mechani- 
cally when  a  few  keys  were  struck  on  a  piano, 
very  audible  across  the  street  and  through  the 
open  windows.  There  ensued  some  rapid  and 
showy  phrasing,  a  few  resolving  chords,  the  rest- 
ful, determining  effect  of  a  tonic  chord,  and  then 
a  man's  voice  arose,  —  a  rich,  sonorous,  impres- 
sive voice,  under  masterly  control.  In  another 
moment  a  mezzo-soprano,  which  she  also  recog- 
nized, full,  sweet,  and  brilliant,  took  up  the  com- 
plement of  the  melody,  and  a  duet  that  was  new 
to  her  pulsated  on  the  air. 

Abbott  stopped  abruptly  in  what  he  was  say- 
ing, and  looked  at  Felicia  in  surprise. 

"  How  did  Kenuett  happen  to  give  up  the 
sleigh-ride  ?  "  he  asked. 


288  FELICIA. 

In  the  sharp  confusion  which  suddenly  seized 
upon  her  she  had  but  one  distinct  idea,  —  that 
she  should  preserve  her  self -command.  She  sum- 
moned all  her  faculties  ;  she  controlled  her  voice  ; 
she  met  his  inquiring  look  with  a  casual,  unflinch- 
ing glance. 

"  He  said  something  about  going,"  she  replied, 
"  but  I  suppose  he  changed  his  mind.  I  have  n't 
seen  him  since  luncheon." 

Abbott  accepted  the  answer.  She  had  played 
her  part  so  well  that  he  merely  turned  his  eyes 
speculatively  upon  the  window  opposite,  and  re- 
marked reflectively  that  he  supposed  old  -Verney 
—  who  was  the  musical  director  —  had  decided 
to  substitute  that  duet,  after  all,  and  they  had  to 
go  to  work  to  get  it  up  at  the  last  minute. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  she  said. 

"  Just  like  him,"  rejoined  Abbott,  sourly  ; 
"  changing  his  mind,  and  making  singers  take 
the  risk  of  a  new  number  without  a  rehearsal 
with  the  orchestra." 

In  a  certain  way  Felicia  was  scrupulous.  Un- 
der ordinary  circumstances  she  would  have  taken 
herself  to  task.  She  would  have  asked  herself  if 
she,  who  esteemed  herself  highly,  had  by  implica- 
tion told  a  falsehood  to  this  man  whom  she  es- 
teemed so  slightly.  In  her  moral  problems  the 
difference  in  valuation  would  have  been  an  ele- 
ment of  consideration.  Certainly  she  had  created 
a  false  impression.  Now  she  was  only  glad  that 
the  false  impression  was  so  complete. 


FELICIA.  289 

It  was  well  for  her  that  Abbott,  absorbed  in  his 
grievance,  took  no  thought  of  her  manner.  He 
did  not  notice  that  she  offered  no  observation,  and 
responded  rarely  and  at  haphazard  to  his  remarks. 
She  rose  to  go  presently,  saying,  with  a  shiver, 
that  she  was  cold,  after  all,  and  that  the  open 
windows  were  making  the  room  very  chilly. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  get  a  book  or  something  ?  " 
asked  Abbott,  in  surprise. 

No,  she  said ;  she  did  not  care  for  anything  to 
read.  She  only  came  up  here  sometimes  to  rest 
when  she  was  out  walking. 

"  Want  to  hear  Kennett  practicing  his  pretty 
little  songs  with  Mrs.  Branner,  hey  ?  " 

He  broke  into  a  disagreeable  laugh,  wrinkling 
the  corners  of  his  eyes  satirically  as  he  bent  them 
upon  her.  Surely  she  was  becoming  well  versed 
in  the  intricacies  of  a  world  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing heretofore  far  enough  from  her  ken.  Once  it 
would  have  seemed  strange  to  contemplate  the 
possibility  of  meeting  and  baffling  such  an  adver- 
sary' as  this  on  his  own  ground. 

"  Mrs.  Branner  is  very  handsome,"  she  said, 
easily.  "  Are  those  pleasant  rooms  she  has  ?  I 
have  never  been  to  see  her  here." 

He  had  noticed  at  the  time  the  cessation  of  her 
intercourse  with  Mrs.  Branner,  and  had  explained 
it  to  his  own  satisfaction  by  the  theory  that  Ken- 
nett's  wife  was  too  "  stuck  up  "  to  associate  even 
with  the  "  bon  ton  "  of  the  troupe.  Such  as  him- 
self and  his  wife,  he  would  say,  with  his  bitter 


290  FELICIA. 

parade  of  humility,  did  n't  expect  any  of  her  so- 
ciety, but  Mrs.  Branner  ought  to  be  "  tony " 
enough  for  her.  Men  of  his  peculiar  tempera- 
ment, however,  have  no  past  and  no  future  ;  his 
life  had  no  perspectives,  and  the  whole  matter 
had  slipped  from  his  recollection  along  with  many 
episodes,  great  and  small.  Thus  it  was  that  Feli- 
cia's management  of  a  commonplace  again  effected 
the  work  of  a  prevarication.  He  only  remem- 
bered that  there  had  been  an  acquaintance,  forgot 
that  it  had  abruptly  ceased,  inferred  that  visits 
were  often  exchanged  in  other  places  besides 
"  here,"  and  relinquished  as  "  no  go  "  his  vague 
idea  of  exciting  a  jealous  distrust  on  Mrs.  Bran- 
ner's  account. 

"  Well,  moderately  nice  rooms,"  he  observed, 
diverted  to  another  train  of  thought.  "  They 
would  n't  seem  anything  to  you,  you  know,  stop- 
ping at  all  the  fine  hotels  as  you  do,  but  they  are 
pretty  well  for  Mrs.  Branner ;  and,  my  Lord ! 
they  'd  be  gorgeous  to  my  wife  and  me." 

In  his  curious  aptness  in  being  disagreeable, 
which  almost  amounted  to  a  genius,  was  a  certain 
capacity  to  make  the  possession  of  advantages 
and  superior  opportunities  a  lash  for  the  lucky,  — 
a  sort  of  lash  of  two  thongs  ;  for  he  could  lay  on 
alternately  his  own  deprivations  and  his  friends' 
good  fortune  with  such  discrimination  and  acri- 
mony that  Kennett  was  often  lost  in  doubt  as  to 
whether  these  friends  would  be  more  comfortable 
if  less  well  off  themselves,  or  if  Abbott  were  more 


FELICIA.  291 

generously  endowed  with  whatever  he  might  es- 
teem desirable. 

He  had  drifted  again  into  the  wide  current  of 
worldly  differences,  —  a  felicitous  subject  enough, 
requiring  little  in  the  way  of  comment  or  reply. 
Thus  Felicia  was  enabled  to  give  almost  her  un- 
divided mind  to  the  consideration  of  the  strange 
thing  which  had  happened.  In  the  very  com- 
mencement of  this  episode  of  her  life  she  had  the 
strong  support  of  a  quality  which,  in  her  nature, 
took  upon  itself  much  of  the  high  function  of 
principle.  To  her  intense  pride  of  character  she 
owed  it  that  she  was  able  to  see  and  reason  with 
a  certain  degree  of  fairness  and  composure. 
When  she  had  collected  her  faculties  sufficiently 
for  consecutive  thinking,  she  asked  herself  if  it 
were  possible  that  a  man  who  possessed  qualities 
which  could  secure  and  hold  her  heart  was  capable 
of  trifling  with  her,  deceiving  her  even  in  so  slight 
a  matter  as  this  question  of  an  afternoon  engage- 
ment. Could  her  husband  palm  off  an  excuse 
upon  her  in  order  to  conceal  the  fact  that  he  de- 
sired to  spend  two  or  three  leisure  hours  this  af- 
ternoon in  the  society  of  another  woman  ?  Had 
she  mistaken  him  like  that  ?  Did  he  care  for  her 
so  little  as  that  ?  She  declared  she  owed  it  first 
to  herself,  then  to  him,  to  admit  such  a  possibility 
only  on  the  most  irrefragable  testimony ;  and  the 
proof  in  this  case  was  very  flimsy.  He  had  prob- 
ably heard,  after  he  left  the  hotel,  that  a  new  duet 
was  to  be  substituted  in  the  opera  for  a  familiar 


292  FELICIA. 

one,  or  introduced,  and  felt  compelled  to  relin- 
quish the  sleigh-ride  in  order  to  practice  it.  No- 
thing, she  argued,  could  be  more  probable  than 
this. 

She  had  lost  much,  she  said  to  herself,  in 
worldly  position,  in  opportunity,  in  peace  of  soul, 
but  she  was  sure  —  and  she  dwelt  on  the  stipula- 
tion with  a  sort  of  eager  insistence  —  of  her  hus- 
band's good  faith  in  every  emergency,  great  and 
small ;  and  she  was  sure  of  herself,  —  she  could 
not  harbor  jealousy  and  suspicion  on  inadequate 
grounds.  And  a  moment  later  she  was  torn  with 
humiliation,  with  unspeakable  bitterness,  that  she 
should  thus  seek  to  reassure  herself. 

The  attention  she  accorded  Abbott  became 
more  and  more  perfunctory,  but  she  could  not 
get  rid  of  him  until  she  reached  the  ladies'  en- 
trance of  the  hotel.  He  seemed  to  wish  to  be 
asked  in,  and  was  disposed  to  linger  at  the  door 
and  make  conversation  about  small  matters.  She 
found  it  necessary  to  infuse  into  her  formal 
"  Good-afternoon  "  something  of  the  spirit  of  a 
dismissal,  which  he  accepted  rather  sulkily,  and 
with  another  negligent  pretense  of  lifting  his  hat 
he  slowly  dawdled  down  the  sidewalk. 

She  found  her  room  suffused  with  the  red  glow 
of  the  sunset,  and  along  the  golden  shaft  which 
slanted  through  the  half-open  blind  the  yellow 
motes  were  drifting  and  dancing.  The  sound  of 
a  canary  bird's  shrilling  in  the  next  room  rose 
and  fell  unintermittingly,  and  the  jingle  of  sleigh- 


FELICIA.  293 

bells  came  up  from  the  street.  Still  in  her  hat 
and  wraps,  she  sank  upon  a  chair,  and  attempted 
to  quiet  the  tumult  at  her  heart,  —  a  tumult 
which  was  a  question,  a  protest,  and  an  intoler- 
able pain.  She  could  only  go  over  the  ground 
again  by  exactly  the  processes  she  had  followed 
before.  She  could  only  say  it  was  impossible 
that  her  husband  could  deceive  her  in  any  matter, 
great  or  small,  that  no  doubt  he  would  of  his  own 
accord  explain,  when  he  should  return,  the  circum- 
stances that  had  caused  the  change  in  his  plans. 

He  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  The  sunlight 
faded.  Twilight  came  on,  and  filled  the  still 
room  with  vague  violet  shadows.  Presently  the 
electric  light  outside  cast  a  lividly  white  simili- 
tude of  the  window  on  the  dark  wall.  A  star 
looked  in. 

Kennett  came  at  last;  not  hurriedly,  —  he 
never  hurried,  —  but  absorbed  and  inclined  to 
silence.  And  yet,  more  absorbed,  more  silent 
than  usual  ?  —  she  demanded  of  herselt,  holding 
desperately  to  the  theory  she  deemed  endurable, 
and  resolved  to  make  every  phase  of  circumstance 
conform  to  it.  He  was  naturally  serious  and  com- 
posed of  manner;  of  late  his  gravity  had  in- 
creased. As  to  his  making  no  mention  of  his 
afternoon  engagement,  she  reminded  herself, 
fighting  her'  growing  dismay,  that  little  was  ever 
said,  nowadays,  touching  his  professional  life,  — 
as  little  as  in  the  early  time  of  their  marriage, 
when  she  had  persistently  kept  from  herself  all 


294  FELICIA. 

knowledge  of  its  every  detail.  It  was  natural 
that  he  should  not  speak  of  the  duet,  of  the  sud- 
den necessity  to  practice  it,  of  the  possibility  of 
its  pleasing  at  the  evening  performance  —  when 
had  he  spoken  of  duets,  or  rehearsals,  or  perfor- 
mances ?  —  that  he  should  talk  instead,  in  their 
usual  desultory  dinner-time  tete-d  tete,  on  any  cas- 
ual subject  which  might  arise,  the  great  cattle 
convention,  for  instance,  the  value  of  some  of  the 
badges  worn  by  the  delegates,  the  large  number 
of  people  coming  in  on  every  train,  the  gigan- 
tic growth  of  the  cattle  interest,  the  immense 
fortunes  sometimes  achieved.  This  subject  ex- 
hausted, they  drifted  into  a  slight  discussion  of 
some  changes  that  had  been  made  in  the  lighting 
of  the  dining-room  since  they  were  here  last,  and 
compared  the  house  with  others  at  which  they  had 
sojourned.  They  even  spoke  of  the  weather,  and 
he  remarked  that  the  thaw  had  not  yet  set  in. 
Their  talk  was  very  languid,  and  was  broken  by 
long  silences. 

After  their  meal  Kennett  left  her  at  the  eleva- 
tor, saying  that  he  had  more  than  usual  on  hand, 
and  was  pressed  for  time. 

And  so  back  into  her  own  room,  to  review  word 
by  word  all  that  had  been  said,  to  speculate  on 
what  had  not  been  said  and  why  he  was  silent,  to 
reiterate  her  assurances,  to  alternately  rebel  and 
wince  because  she  found  those  assurances  of  less 
and  less  avail,  —  thus  she  passed  the  next  three 
hours.  Sometimes  she  felt  that  it  was  an  inex- 


FELICIA.  295 

pressible  cruelty  that  she  could  not  have  had  fur- 
ther speech  with  him,  and  saved  herself  this  ordeal 
of  pain  ;  she  might  at  least  have  asked  him  about 
the  sleigh-ride,  and  have  judged  if  he  had  inten- 
tionally misled  her.  Then  she  pulled  herself  up 
sharply.  Ask  her  husband  in  effect  if  he  had 
told  her  a  lie  ?  Ah,  life  was  hard  at  best,  but 
what  an  intolerable  burden  it  would  be  when  that 
should  become  a  possibility  I 

Again  she  strung  her  will  to  its  utmost  tension. 
She  forced  herself  to  believe  that  she  was  glad 
she  had  not  mentioned  the  matter.  She  might 
have  lost  her  self-control.  She  might  have  made 
a  scene,  with  tears  and  reproaches,  and  have 
earned  with  her  own  self-contempt  his  bitter  con- 
tempt. She  could  never  forgive  herself  if  she  had 
asked  him  a  question  which  would  imply  even  to 
herself  a  moment's  doubt  of  him. 

Yet  ten  minutes  after  his  return  from  the 
theatre  she  asked  this  question,  —  carefully,  judi- 
cially, coolly.  With  a  sort  of  impersonal  amaze- 
ment, she  heard  herself  speak  the  words  she  had 
resolved  not  to  speak.  Her  will  seemed  as  totally 
out  of  her  own  control  as  if  it  appertained  to  an- 
other entity. 

"  You  did  n't  tell  me  about  the  sleigh-ride, 
Hugh,"  she  said. 

"  I  did  not  go  with  them,"  he  replied. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  he  spoke  simply,  natu- 
rally, without  hesitation  or  reserve.  But  —  he 
could  act.  She  knew  how  well  he  could  act. 


296  FELICIA. 

"  Old  Verney  flew  into  a  rage  this  morning," 
continued  Kennett,  "  because  the  trio  in  the 
finale  did  not  go  to  suit  him,  and  declared  he  in- 
tended to  substitute  a  duo  by  Neukomm ;  it  is 
rather  rare  and  new  here.  Nobody  believed  him, 
but  just  as  I  was  about  to  start  with  Foxley's 
crowd  a  messenger  came,  on  a  dead  run,  with  the 
score,  and  I  had  to  go  to  Mrs.  Branner  and  get 
it  up." 

How  simple,  how  reasonable,  how  perfectly 
credible !  Her  heart  was  growing  light  again. 

"  Was  n't  it  dangerous  to  attempt  it  without  a 
rehearsal  with  the  orchestra  ?  "  she  asked. 

""  Well,  yes,  rather  risky.  It  is  a  difficult, 
crabbed  piece  of  instrumentation.  The  flutes 
came  very  neai*  getting  into  the  woods  several 
times.  The  whole  thing  would  have  been  a  fiasco 
with  any  soprano  I  know  except  Mrs.  Branner. 
She  fairly  controlled  those  fools  in  the  orchestra 
with  her  eye  and  her  voice.  Old  Verney  himself 
was  scared." 

There  was  a  pause.  Kennett  had  risen,  and 
was  standing  looking  down  into  the  fire.  He  had 
a  sort  of  retrospective  contemplation  on  his  face. 

"  Intelligence  is  a  wonderful  force,"  he  said 
suddenly,  with  something  like  enthusiasm,  "and 
what  a  voice  she  has  !  A  lovely  voice,  —  a  very 
rare  voice." 

He  seldom  criticised  any  of  his  associates;  it 
was  still  more  seldom,  actuated  perhaps  by  pro- 
fessional jealousy,  perhaps  by  the  high  standard 


FELICIA.  297 

of  excellence  of  the  artist,  that  he  accorded 
praise. 

Felicia  said  nothing.  As  he  glanced  down  at 
her,  he  was  struck  by  something  in  her  face.  Not 
an  expression  so  much  as  an  absence  of  expres- 
sion, —  a  certain  blankness ;  from  intense  feeling, 
or  lack  of  feeling  ?  from  repression,  or  emotion, 
or  indifference,  or  objection  ?  He  did  not  under- 
stand it. 

"  I  beg  pardon  for  talking  shop,"  he  said,  in 
deference  to  its  possible  meaning.  "  I  know  you 
don't  like  shop." 

What  was  this  new  torture  which  beset  her, 
this  piercing,  sudden  pang  that  had  resolved  itself 
into  a  heavy  pain,  and  would  not  relax  its  hold? 

It  seemed  to  her  now  that  her  terror  of  this 
afternoon,  that  he  had  willfully  deceived  her,  was 
a  small  grief  in  comparison  with  what  she  felt 
when  she  remembered  how  his  face  had  lighted  as 
he  spoke  of  that  woman  and  praised  her  intelli- 
gence and  her  voice. 

This1  was  jealousy.  On  its  indefinite,  malevo- 
lent power  she  had  speculated  vaguely  and  piti- 
fully as  on  some  far-away  calamity,  in  the  nature 
of  things  infinitely  removed  from  her  lot,  —  as 
a  pestilence,  a  fatal  tidal-wave,  an  earthquake  in 
a  foreign  land,  wreaking  woe.  Vaguely  and  piti- 
fully, but  an  infusion  of  contempt  had  been  ad- 
mixed in  her  contemplation  of  that  convulsion  of 
the  human  soul.  And  now  it  was  upon  her  with 
its  terrors,  its  sense  of  irremediability,  of  inevi- 


298  FELICIA. 

lability,  its  intolerable  pain,  its  humiliation,  its 
despair. 

Being  what  she  was,  she  could  not  offer  herself 
explanations,  reasons,  questions,  now.  The  fact, 
the  one  insuperable,  undeniable  fact,  remained, 
how  his  face  had  lighted  when  he  spoke  of  that 
woman  and  of  her  voice,  —  a  fact  seemingly  vast 
enough,  predominant  enough,  to  fill  a  universe ; 
to  exclude  all  other  thought,  all  other  care,  all 
other  considerations.  Yet,  vast  as  it  was,  there 
came  to  be  presently  room  enough  in  her  con- 
sciousness, being  what  she  was,  for  an  added  real- 
ization to  slip  in,  —  the  realization  that  they  were 
all  three  of  the  operatic  world,  a  shabby  world 
from  the  standpoint  of  her  previous  existence ; 
excluded,  set  apart  from  ordinary  rules  and  tra- 
ditions. It  was  perhaps  meet,  she  said  bitterly  to 
herself,  that  in  this  alien  world  his  wife  should 
see  his  face  light  up  at  the  name  of  this  woman, 

—  of  such  a  woman  ! 

This  was  the  position  in  which  she  was  placed, 

—  she  who  had  once  been  Felicia  Hamilton,  a 
cherished  daughter,  a  loved  sister,  an  admired 
heiress ;  so  fortunately  endowed  as  to  be  out  of 
the  reach  of  detraction  or  envy,  out  of  the  possi- 
bility of  slight  or  supersedure.     This  was  what  it 
had  all  come  to,  —  this  absurd  calamity,  this  most 
contemptible  tragedy. 

In  the  anguish  of  her  wounded  love  and  her 
writhing  pride,  in  this  first  bitter  experience  of 
the  torture  of  jealousy,  she  could  still  see  the  mat- 
ter in  its  worldly  aspect. 


XV. 

IN  the  allotment  of  complex  and  delicate 
forces  which  constitute  an  intellectual  entity, 
are  the  functions  of  certain  faculties  capable 
of  only  a  fixed  amount  of  work,  or  perhaps  of 
work  only  in  certain  directions,  precluding  ac- 
tivity in  other  than  accustomed  channels?  For 
instance,  when  an  appeal  was  made  to  Kennett's 
carefully  cultivated  artistic  sensibilities,  they  re- 
sponded readily  enough.  Given  a  dramatic  sit- 
uation, elements  of  rage,  despair,  love,  revenge, 
remorse,  his  consciousness  was  instantly  imbued 
with  an  adequate  realization  of  those  emotions ; 
alert  to  assume  them  as  a  habit ;  adroit  to  fix 
upon  them  the  medium  of  word,  look,  and  action 
appropriate  for  vivid  portrayal.  In  this  sense  of 
a  keen  artistic  susceptibility  he  did  not  lack  im- 
agination. From  another  point  of  view  he  did. 
In  the  simple  and  prosaic  machinery  of  his  life 
off  the  stage  he  was  not  quick  to  interpret  com- 
plications of  feelings;  he  was  clumsy  in  the  an- 
alysis of  shades  of  manner.  His  experience  had 
been  of  simple  natures,  —  of  soul  developments 
that  lay  close  to  the  surface,  easily  accessible. 

In  these  days  he  misinterpreted  Felicia  in  con- 
tradictory ways :  sometimes  he  thought  her  cold  ; 


300  FELICIA. 

sometimes  he  thought  her  sullen ;  sometimes  he 
was  vaguely  impressed  with  the  idea  that  she  was 
deeply  and  secretly  unhappy,  —  a  theory  he  re- 
jected when  her  composed  eyes  met  his,  and  her 
mechanically  cheerful  voice  fell  on  the  air.  If  it 
had  been  on  the  stage,  he  might  have  recognized 
it  as  bad  acting;  as  it  was,  he  did  not  recognize 
it  as  feigning  at  all. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  next  morning,  as  he  was 
about  to  start  for  rehearsal,  he  hesitated  at  the 
door,  and  turned  back  into  the  room  in  uncer- 
tainty. 

"  You  don't  have  fresh  air  enough,  Felicia,"  he 
said,  abruptly.  "  I  know  you  dislike  dictation, 
but  I  think  I  ought  to  insist  that  you  should  be 
more  in  the  open  air.  Keeping  so  closely  in  these 
hot  rooms  is  enough  to  kill  you.  You  look  any- 
thing but  well  to-day." 

"  I  have  a  headache,"  she  said. 

Her  heart  was  thumping  heavily;  she  was  fight- 
ing with  the  emotion  that  strove  to  express  itself 
in  her  voice,  and  so  her  voice  seemed  measured 
and  cold. 

"  You  would  n't  like  to  walk  with  me  around 
to  the  theatre  ? "  he  asked,  doubtfully,  repulsed 
by  her  tone.  "  You  need  n't  go  in,  you  know, 
unless  you  choose." 

"  If  you  can  wait  a  few  moments,"  she  replied, 
unexpectedly. 

He  came  back  into  the  room,  threw  himself 
into  an  armchair,  still  wearing  his  hat  and  over- 
coat, and  resumed  the  morning  paper. 


FELICIA.  301 

She  said  to  herself  in  scorn  that  it  had  come  to 
a  strange  pass  that  a  wife  should  be  shaken,  af- 
fected, agitated  almost  beyond  control,  if  her  hus- 
band condescends  to  notice  that  she  is  pale  and 
asks  her  to  walk  with  him  ;  for  as  she  adjusted 
her  wraps  her  fingers  were  trembling  with  haste 
and  eagerness. 

An  almost  perfect  physical  organization,  with 
its  strong  and  subtle  elasticity,  its  alert  suscepti- 
bility to  external  conditions,  has  also  intense  en- 
dowments of  hope  and  courage.  It  was  strange 
to  her  that,  under  the  influence  of  the  sunshine, 
the  air,  and  the  motion,  her  heavy  heart  should 
grow  lighter.  She  felt  a  sense  of  reassurance  in 
the  few  words  Kennett  spoke  ;  his  very  silence 
was  all  at  once  restful,  so  unstudied  and  natural 
did  it  seem.  Her  thoughts  were  slipping  the 
leash  of  the  subject  which  had  held  them  in  thrall. 
She  was  half  unconsciously  noticing  the  circum- 
stances about  her,  —  the  passing  people,  the  vocif- 
erous English  sparrows,  the  crisp  sound  of  the 
crunching  snow  under  foot,  the  filmy  lines  of  cir- 
rus clouds  drawing  an  almost  imperceptible  veil 
over  the  sky. 

After  she  was  seated  in  the  semi-obscurity  of 
the  proscenium  box,  her  thoughts  went  back  to 
the  efforts  she  had  made  six  months  before  to 
share  her  husband's  professional  life.  How  hard 
she  had  tried  !  How  completely  she  had  failed  ! 
Was  it  her  fault  ?  In  this  unexpected  lightening 
of  her  mood,  she  could  review  the  stretch  of  time 


302  FELICIA. 

since  she  first  sat  looking  on  at  a  rehearsal  with 
the  determination  to  endure,  to  withstand,  to  con- 
cede. Was  she  right  then  ?  Was  it  a  mistake 
to  give  up  that  resolve  through  fear  of  some  ill  to 
her  precious  ideals  ?  Was  not  her  happiness  — 
and  his  —  of  more  value  than  her  standards  ? 
And  if  she  could  have  done  this,  life  would  have 
been,  perhaps,  an  easier  thing;  she  would  have 
been  a  happier  woman.  She  could  have  taken 
her  environment  less  tragically.  She  would 
have  kept  her  hope,  her  spirit,  her  influence.  In 
that  case  she  might  have  met  whatever  charm 
was  arrayed  against  her  with  conscious  effort ; 
with  an  intention  to  regain,  to  retain ;  with  the 
potent  countercharm  of  her  own  undismayed  in- 
dividuality. She  looked  across  the  stage  at  Mrs. 
Branner.  She  asked  herself,  Was  a  wife  propos- 
ing the  possible  feasibility  of  entering  the  lists 
against  another  woman  for  the  prize  of  her  hus- 
band's heart,  —  of  summoning  the  fascination  of 
the  coquette  against  another  coquette  ?  Under 
any  circumstances,  could  she  have  so  developed 
that  that  would  be  possible?  Would  it  be  well 
for  her  if  she  could?  She  said  to  herself,  No. 
Love  is  a  blessing  or  a  curse,  as  fate  wills ;  not  a 
bauble  to  be  auctioned  off  to  the  highest  bidder. 
Never  could  she  have  come  to  such  a  pass  as  to 
truckle,  to  scheme,  to  bribe,  to  cajole. 

Those  members  of  the  troupe  whom  she  knew 
best  came  into  the  box,  in  the  course  of  the  re- 
Jiearsal.  Felicia  noticed  a  certain  change  in  their 


FELICIA.  303 

manner  since  the  early  days  of  her  marriage,  when 
she  first  visited  the  theatre.  Then  there  had  been 
a  marked  deference,  even  an  evident  awe,  too  sin- 
cere to  be  concealed.  But  she  had  become  a  fa- 
miliar presence,  and  then  had  withdrawn  herself. 
Perhaps  something  of  resentment  was  expressed 
in  the  sort  of  cavalier  assertion  she  detected  in 
them.  Perhaps  in  her  earlier  acquaintance  she 
had  been  too  gentle,  too  conciliatory.  She  knew 
much  of  human  nature  through  intuition,  but  she 
had  not  yet  learned  that  the  grace  of  concession 
is  subject  to  misinterpretation.  She  had  felt  that 
she  condescended  in  meeting  them  as  on  equal 
ground ;  they  may  have  received  her  complaisance 
as  admission  of  equality.  Possibly  it  elicited  in 
them,  not  appreciation,  but  self-aggrandizement; 
perhaps  it  had  not  lifted  them,  but  had  placed 
her  on  a  lower  plane  in  their  estimation.  Apres 
vous  is  endurable  only  among  social  equals. 

It  may  have  been  this  feeling  of  resentment 
that  influenced  Mrs.  Branner's  manner  when  she 
too  eiitered  the  box,  with  greetings  and  welcome. 
She  in  especial  had  been  taken  up  on  trial,  as  it 
were,  in  an  effort  to  find  her  endurable,  and 
dropped,  —  not  an  experience  to  be  received  pa- 
tiently by  a  woman  of  pronounced  vanity.  The 
spark  in  her  eyes,  the  ring  in  her  voice,  were  not, 
however,  so  definite  as  to  be  distinctly  discernible 
to  normal  sensibilities,  but  the  delicate  antenna 
of  Felicia's  instincts,  intensely  on  the  alert,  appre- 
hended an  antagonistic  sentiment. 


304  FELICIA. 

More  vivacious  than  usual  was  Mrs.  Branner ; 
she  had  a  fine  color,  and  after  the  first  few  sen- 
tences of  salutation  she  talked  with  fluency  and 
eagerness,  with  frequent  lifting  of  her  eyebrows 
and  gestures  of  her  ungloved  hands,  —  large,  soft, 
white,  well-shaped,  and  delicately  tended  hands, 
that  expressed  some  sort  of  supremacy  and 
strength  in  their  possessor,  making  merely  pretty 
hands  seem  weak  and  ineffective. 

A  few  moments  after  her  entrance  the  conver- 
sation drifted  from  Felicia,  and  she  found  herself 
excluded,  as  she  had  no  knowledge  of  the  circum- 
stances of  which  they  spoke.  She  gathered  that 
Mrs.  Branner,  having  some  time  before  received 
a  small  legacy,  had  invested  it  injudiciously,  and 
was  now  disposed  to  sell  out  precipitately  at  a 
considerable  loss.  The  others  expostulated  with 
varying  degrees  of  earnestness.  Once  Felicia 
heard  her  husband  quoted  in  Mrs.  Branner's  re- 
plies. She  looked  up  quickly.  Their  eyes  met. 
In  that  moment,  replete  with  meaning,  with  the 
subtle  forces  of  recognized  and  half-recognized 
emotions  and  antagonisms,  whatever  was  the  un- 
expressed thought  that  flashed  from  one  to  the 
other,  it  induced  a  sudden  silence.  The  singer 
hesitated.  Then,  with  a  heightened  flush  and  a 
quick  change  of  expression,  —  a  sort  of  indefinite 
lightening  of  look,  —  she  went  on  :  "  Mr.  Ken- 
nett  says,"  and  once,  "  Hugh  thinks  I  had  better 
sell  now  and  take  what  I  can  get  when  I  can  get 
it." 


FELICIA.  305 

Her  lips  were  smiling,  but  there  was  taunt  in 
her  eyes.  The  wife  felt  herself  growing  white ; 
her  eyes  burned  as  they  met  that  mocking  glance. 
She  rose  slowly,  saying  nothing.  To  control  her 
face  ;  to  make  no  sign  which  Abbott  and  Preston 
and  Whitmarsh  —  all  keen  men,  and  alert  by 
training  to  interpret  minutiae  of  manner  as  ex- 
pressive of  feeling  —  might  detect;  to  remove 
herself  from  this  plausible,  mocking  creature,  with 
the  smile  upon  her  lips  and  cruelty  in  her  eyes, 
—  this  was  her  one  thought. 

Rehearsal  was  over.  The  singers  on  the  stage, 
invested  with  wraps  and  hats,  lingered  in  groups, 
chatting  or  discussing  the  morning's  work.  The 
members  of  the  orchestra  were  dispersing.  Ken- 
nett  was  entering  the  box. 

"  You  are  ready  to  go  ?  "  he  said  to  Felicia. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Kennett,  by  the  way !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Branner,  suddenly.  "Did  you  stop  at  Cranlett's 
yesterday  afternoon  and  get  my  photographs,  as 
you  promised  ?  Of  course  you  forgot.  I  am  so 
sorry." 

He  thrust  his  hand  into  the  breast  pocket  of 
his  coat  as  if  in  sudden  recollection. 

"Of  course  I  did  not  forget,"  he  said.  "Here 
they  are." 

He  handed  her  the  package,  with  a  smile  and 
a  bow  of  exaggerated  ceremoniousness.  In  the 
pleasantry  was  suggested  much  of  the  ease  which 
characterizes  two  widely  different  states  of  feel- 
ing, —  the  superficial  friendliness  induced  by  a 


306  FELICIA. 

habit  of  constant  and  not  disagreeable  association, 
as  well  as  the  cordiality  resulting  from  the  more 
serious  elements  of  congeniality. 

Mrs.  Branner  was  tall ;  her  eyes  were  almost 
on  a  level  with  his.  She  looked  straight  at  him 
with  her  own  artless,  dulcet  smile. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  boy !  "  she  cried,  vivaciously. 
"  You  never  forget  anything  that  /  ask  you." 

He  looked  surprised.  He  moved  away ;  he 
laughed  constrainedly.  As  Mrs.  Branner  opened 
the  package  of  photographs,  he  said  again  to  Fe- 
licia, "  You  are  ready  to  go  ?  I  am  at  your  com- 
mand." 

"Wait  one  moment,  only  one  moment,"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Branner,  "  and  see  my  pictures.  Oh, 
how  hideous !  " 

She  distributed  a  number  of  cabinet  photo- 
graphs among  the  group,  remarking  that  it  was  a 
shame  to  be  so  caricatured. 

"What  are  you  giving  us?"  said  Abbott,  scan- 
ning one  of  them.  "  It 's  perfectly  dandy.  You 
know  you  don't  think  they  are  hideous.  You 
think  they  are  particularly  swell." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  get  yourself  taken  in  cos- 
tume ?  "  objected  Preston.  "  You  look  like  any 
other  blonde  woman  in  a  black  lace  dress." 

Felicia  made  no  comment.  Kennett  observed 
that  the  likeness  was  good. 

"I'll  forgive  you,  Mr.  Kennett,"  cried  Mrs. 
Branner,  coquettishly,  as  he  was  leaving  the  box, 
"  if  you  have  kept  one  of  them  !  I  don't  intend 
to  count  them." 


FELICIA.  307 

She  tossed  them  gayly  from  one  hand  to  the 
other. 

"  That 's  very  good  of  you,"  declared  Kennett, 
lightly. 

Felicia  looked  over  her  shoulder  as  she  went 
out.  She  it  was  who  stealthily  attempted  to 
count  them  as  they  were  shuffled  by  those  smooth, 
shapely  hands  of  Mrs.  Branner's.  How  many  did 
she  hold  ?  Preston  had  one  ;  Whitrnarsh  held 
two,  which  he  was  comparing,  each  to  each  ;  Ab- 
bott had  one  ;  and  had  a  dozen  been  taken,  or  half 
a  dozen  ?  Had  Kennett  one  in  his  pocket?  And 
the  wife  had  caught  herself  tidying  to  count  them 
that  she  might  know  !  The  humiliation  of  it ! 

Added  to  those  elements  which  had  made  her 
torture  last  night  there  had  come  to  her  now  an 
ecstasy  of  anger  that  held  her  dumb.  She  might 
not  speak  lest  she  break  all  bounds  of  self-control. 

As  she  and  her  husband  retraced  the  way  trav- 
ersed only  two  hours  ago  with  such  different  feel- 
ings, —  with  the  dawning  of  hope,  the  possibility 
of  courage,  of  endurance,  of  dispassionate  reflec- 
tion, —  Felicia  was  perceiving  vaguely  that  the 
most  terrible  phase  of  the  passion  which  possessed 
her  was  its  sharp  alternations. 

Kennett  broke  the  silence  as  they  neared  the 
hotel. 

"  Did  you  notice,"  he  said,  with  a  reminiscent 
laugh,  "  how  kittenish  Mrs.  Branner  is  to-day  ? 
Quite  flirtatious." 

He  looked  at  her  with  smiling  eyes,  and  she 
looked  at  him.  Even  her  lips  were  white. 


308  FELICIA. 

"  I  do  not  choose  to  talk  about  that  woman," 
she  said,  icily. 

He  seemed  at  a  loss.  His  smile  faded,  and  his 
face  wore  an  expression  of  surprise. 

"Ah,  well,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  depression 
of  manner,  "  if  you  don't  want  to  talk  of  her,  I 
am  sorry  I  mentioned  her." 

It  was  now  Felicia's  chief  care  to  preserve  her 
self-command.  She  looked  forward  with  dread 
to  the  afternoon  alone  with  Kennett.  With  her 
inflexible  sense  of  what  she  deemed  due  to  her- 
self, what  she  felt  that  life  and  others  owed  her, 
she  shrank  with  inexpressible  repugnance  from 
the  thought  that  she  might  lose  her  hold  upon 
herself  and  betray  the  torment  of  jealousy  which 
she  was  enduring.  Justifiable  or  unjustifiable, 
she  felt  that  nothing  could  lighten  the  degrada- 
tion that  she  should  go  through  such  an  experi- 
ence, and  that  he  should  know  it. 

Chance  intervened  to  spare  her  the  ordeal  of 
an  afternoon's  tete-a-tete.  Kennett  asked,  just 
after  luncheon,  if  she  would  not  make  a  call  on 
Abbott's  wife,  who  was  ill  and  "  blue." 

"  He  told  me  he  wished  you  would  come.  His 
family  live  here,  you  know.  You  won't  mind  it 
if  it  is  a  little  distasteful  to  you?  They  live 
rather  shabbily,  I  believe.  Their  expenses  are 
pretty  heavy.  He  says  they  are  as  poor  as  Job's 
turkey  this  year." 

His  tone  was  apologetic  and  a  trifle  anxious. 
He  looked  at  her  in  uncertainty. 


FELICIA.  309 

"  It  will  give  me  pleasure  to  go,"  she  replied, 
gravely.  "  He  did  not  mention  it  to  me,  either 
to-day  or  yesterday  afternoon.  I  had  a  long  talk 
with  him  yesterday.  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  know 
before  that  his  wife  is  ill." 

Then  she  said  to  herself  in  much  bitterness  of 
spirit :  "  Hugh  thinks  I  am  a  most  consummate 
snob,  and  perhaps  I  am  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  I 
don't  object  to  Mr.  Abbott's  poverty  as  to  pocket, 
but  as  to  soul." 

She  rose,  and  took  from  the  wardrobe  her  cloak 
and  bonnet. 

"  If  you  will  order  a  carriage,"  she  said,  "  I 
will  go  at  once." 

He  looked  at  her,  with  strong  impatience  in  his 
face.  He  spoke  sharply.  He  so  seldom  let  go 
his  self-control  that  that  which  in  another  man 
might  have  seemed  only  irritability  seemed  iu 
him  extreme  anger. 

"  Felicia,  do  you  desire  to  be  so  extravagant  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  Is  it  through  perversity  that  you 
spend  money  so  foolishly  ?  I  have  remonstrated 
again  and  again.  \o\\  know  how  I  am  situated. 
We  can't  afford  carriages  for  casual  afternoon 
outings  and  shopping'.  The  livery  bill  is  already 
unreasonably  high.  Why  not  go  in  the  horse- 
cars,  like  other  people  ?  " 

She  returned  his  look  fixedly.  There  was 
something  in  her  face,  difficult  of  interpretation, 
which  made  him  sorry  he  had  spoken  so  abruptly. 
Yet  she  did  not  seem  hurt,  and  in  her  expres- 


310  FELICIA. 

sion  came  a  sort  of  indulgence ;  a  dawning  soft- 
ness  contended  with  the  underlying  pain. 

"  I  will  go  in  the  horse-cars,"  she  replied,  qui- 
etly. "  I  did  n't  remember  the  expense  of  a  car- 
riage." 

He  walked  about  the  room  in  perturbation. 
Apologies  did  not  come  very  easily  to  him.  He 
was  used  to  being  in  the  right.  Still  he  made  an 
effort. 

"  I  don't  intend  to  be  cross,"  he  said,  penitently, 
"  but  you  seem  very  thoughtless,  and  I  am  wor- 
ried to  death  about  money." 

She  made  no  reply  for  a  moment ;  then,  as  she 
tied  her  bonnet-strings  under  her  chin,  she  gave  a 
bitter  little  laugh. 

"  How  happy  a  human  being  must  be,"  she 
said,  "  to  have  for  a  bete  noire  only  —  money  !  " 

He  accompanied  her  downstairs,  hailed  a  car, 
assisted  her  into  it,  and  gave  the  conductor  direc- 
tions where  she  was  to  stop  and  change  cars.  The 
vehicle  trundled  on  drearily  through  the  murky 
streets  ;  for  the  clouded  and  dense  air,  permeated 
with  the  thick  smoke  from  the  bituminous  coal  of 
many  factories,  was  almost  a  tangible  medium  ; 
though  still  early  in  the  afternoon,  twilight  seemed 
already  close  at  hand. 

A  sort  of  lethargy  had  succeeded  the  vividness 
of  Felicia's  emotions ;  her  thoughts  dwelt  with 
the  heaviness  and  inelasticity  of  a  fatigued  mind 
on  the  subject  which  absorbed  her.  She  was  only 
indefinitely  conscious  that  her  feet  were  cold  ;  that 


FELICIA.  311 

she  shivered  in  the  biting  draught,  as  the  door 
was  opened  for  the  admission  or  exit  of  passen- 
gers ;  that  the  straw  in  the  bottom  of  the  dingy 
car  was  spotted  with  tobacco  juice  ;  that  her  com- 
panions were  for  the  most  part  old  women  with 
market  baskets,  and  middle-aged  men  who  dif- 
fused the  odor  of  garlic  as  they  animatedly  con- 
versed in  guttural  tones,  with  many  an  "  ach " 
and  "  Gott,"  and  the  wild  gesticulation  of  unbri- 
dled argument. 

When  the  car  stopped,  and  the  conductor 
opened  the  door  and  signified  that  she  had  reached 
her  destination,  she  descended  into  a  region  unfa- 
miliar to  her. 

"  Your  car  '11  be  along  torec'ly,  lady,"  he  said, 
as  he  gave  the  driver  the  signal  to  proceed. 
When  he  reached  the  next  corner,  he  suddenly 
thumped  the  rail  of  the  platform  with  his  big 
glove  in  recollection.  "  Bless  the  Lord,  if  I  did- 
n't put  her  out  on  the  wrong  street !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  The  cars  go  down  that  street  and  up 
the  next." 

He  laughed  a  little  at  the  thought  of  her  dis- 
comfiture, and  stopped  the  car  for  a  fat  Irishwo- 
man with  a  basket,  —  clothes,  this  time. 

Felicia  stood  for  some  minutes  on  the  corner, 
waiting  for  a  car.  Several  passed  going  down, 
none  going  up.  So  little  were  sundry  practical 
phases  of  life  familiar  to  her  that  she  did  not  no- 
tice that  the  track  was  a  single  one,  and  that  of 
necessity  no  car  could  go  in  the  direction  she 


312  FELICIA. 

wished  to  take.  The  wind  whistled  around  the 
corner  on  which  she  stood.  She  shivered  as  it 
struck  her,  and  finally  began  to  walk  up  the 
street,  pausing  now  and  then,  and  looking  over 
her  shoulder,  in  the  hope  of  being  overtaken  by 
the  big,  lumbering  vehicle.  Her  thoughts  had 
been  diverted  into  a  new  channel,  and  she  became, 
as  she  walked,  more  and  more  alertly  conscious 
of  the  unaccustomed  phases  of  life  suddenly  pre- 
sented to  her  view. 

It  was  no  doubt  a  serious  misfortune  to  her 
that  whatever  she  deemed  objectionable  angered 
as  well  as  repelled  her.  She  could  not  endure 
with  indifference  that  people  should  be  stupid  or 
ill-natured,  boorish,  foolish,  overdressed  or  inap- 
propriately dressed  ;  that  they  should  not  know 
what  to  say,  and  when  and  how  to  say  it ;  that 
they  should  not  move  with  ease  and  have  good 
manners.  Her  respect  for  the  proprieties,  the  de- 
corous and  seemly  in  life,  had  been  cultivated  un- 
til it  was  almost  a  religion.  With  all  her  mental 
scope  and  avidity  of  imagination,  she  had  not 
enough  of  the  poetic  gift  to  see  anything  pictur- 
esque in  poverty  through  its  repulsiveness.  She 
had  known  so  little  of  lowly  lives  and  their  sur- 
roundings that  she  had  slight  sympathetic  insight 
or  appreciation  of  their  woes,  their  heroism,  their 
struggles  ;  she  saw  only  the  grotesque  exterior. 
To-day  she  was  brought  into  closer  contact  with 
those  sorry  conditions  than  she  had  ever  been  be- 
fore. Her  own  deep  absorptions  gave  way  to  the 


FELICIA.  313 

contemplation  of  this  unlovely  status.  Her  route 
took  her  through  one  of  the  humbler  retail  arte- 
ries of  the  city,  which,  while  respectable,  were  in 
their  shabbiness  far  removed  from  the  well-to-do, 
fashionable  pathways.  She  saw  frowzy,  anxious, 
peevish  women ;  noisy,  neglected  children ;  whis- 
tling, quarreling  boys  ;  coarse-faced  men  ;  shabby 
tenement  houses,  —  all  repeated  ad  infinitum 
along  the  vistas  of  the  side  streets.  It  was  a  pos- 
itive offense  to  her  that  the  shop  windows  should 
be  filled  with  tawdry  finery,  —  absurdly  imitating 
the  fashions,  —  placarded  with  figures  far  above 
their  value,  but  indicative  of  marvelous  cheapness ; 
that  forlorn  feminine  gulls  should  chaffer  over  the 
counters  attaining  these  bargains,  or  covetously 
gaze  at  them  from  without ;  that  in  front  of  the 
huckster  shops  crates  of  vegetables  and  coops  con- 
taining restless  live  chickens  and  ducks  should 
impede  her  way  ;  that  she  should  pass  saloons 
with  rough  men  lounging  about.  The  din  was 
deafening ;  great  wagons  laden  with  iron  bars 
clanged  by  in  continuous  succession ;  the  air  was 
now  and  again  pierced  with  the  shrill  tones  of 
fruit-venders,  the  still  more  dissonant  notes  of  the 
knife-grinder's  bell,  and  the  doleful  cry  of  "  Rags ! 
rags  !  rags !  " 

By  degrees  she  entered  a  quieter  region.  The 
shops  were  fewer  and  dwelling-houses  were  more 
numerous.  A  series  of  vacant  lots,  with  piles  of 
ashes  and  tin  cans,  gave  nevertheless  a  welcome 
sense  of  space  and  air,  and  in  this  vicinity  she 


314  FELICIA. 

found  the  address  that  had  been  furnished  her. 
It  was  a  small  brick  dwelling,  placed  considerably 
back  from  the  street,  and  with  a  ragged  front 
yard.  The  bell  wire  was  broken,  and  it  was 
only  after  a  persistent  knocking,  which  left  her 
knuckles  sore,  that  Felicia  heard  first  a  shrill 
voice  calling  peremptorily,  then  the  sound  of 
steps.  They  were  strange,  rattling,  thumping, 
irregular  steps,  rising  above  a  mingled  chorus  of 
loud  exclamations,  as  of  fright  or  anger,  and  con- 
vulsive laughter.  After  a  few  moments  of  fum- 
bling at  the  bolt  the  door  suddenly  flew  open, 
and  revealed  a  tall,  slim  girl  of  twelve,  wearing  a 
dark  calico  dress  and  a  white  apron ;  she  had  a 
shock  of  curly  brown  hair,  and  was  uncertainly 
•balanced  on  a  pair  of  roller  skates.  Two  or  three 
younger  children,  following  her,  had  apparently 
impeded  her  progress.  All  were  panting  and 
flushed  as  if  from  a  recent  struggle. 

"  Mrs.  Abbott  ?  "  she  repeated,  in  answer  to 
Felicia's  inquiry,  looking  at  her  with  a  hard  stare, 
at  once  curious  and  indifferent,  from  under  her 
tousled  bangs,  and  vigorously  working  her  jaws 
upon  an  exceedingly  obdurate  piece  of  chewing- 
gum.  "  Come  in,"  she  added,  shortly.  Then 
she  thrust  her  head  into  a  door  close  at  hand, 
and  calling  out,  "  Sister  Jenny  —  lady  wants  to 
see  you ! "  skated  off,  eluding  the  suddenly  out- 
stretched hands  of  her  companions,  balancing  her- 
self with  her  swaying  arms,  —  she  was  evidently 
a  novice,  —  and  laughing  wildly. 


FELICIA.  315 

The  sordidness,  the  shabby  disarray,  deepened 
Felicia's  intense  depression,  as  she  stood  hesitat- 
ing in  the  dusty,  unkempt  hall,  and  she  was  not 
reassured  when  Mr.  Abbott  appeared  at  the  open 
door.  He  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves;  his  waistcoat 
and  trowsers  were  profusely  and  freshly  wrinkled ; 
his  hair  was  tumbled,  and  his  eyes  were  bloodshot 
and  swollen.  He  was  plainly  just  awake,  and 
when,  still  somewhat  dazed,  he  invited  her  in,  she 
was  sorry  she  had  come.  There  was  so  evidently 
no  preparation  for  the  reception  of  visitors  that, 
as  she  took  the  offered  chair  near  the  fire,  she 
felt  painfully  that  her  call  was  an  intrusion. 

The  woman  in  a  faded  calico  wrapper,  sitting 
in  an  easy-chair,  supported  by  pillows  and  half 
enveloped  in  a  blanket,  wore  on  her  sharp,  thin 
features  so  many  expressions  that  it  was  hard  to 
say  which  predominated,  —  melancholy,  physical 
suffering,  discontent.  The  room  was  sparsely  fur- 
nished, but  in  great  disorder,  the  scattered  arti- 
cles giving  it  an  overcrowded  appearance. 

Mr.  Abbott  did  not  have  to  be  awake  long  to 
achieve  his  unreasoning  perversity.  With  that 
sharp  insight  of  hers,  Felicia  divined  that  he  was 
pleased  because  she  had  come,  and  that,  contra- 
dictory as  usual,  he  resented  it  as  patronage. 

"You  must  take  us  as  you  find  us,"  he  said. 
"  It 's  not  a  very  elegant  way  to  live ;  but  every 
man  can't  put  up  at  the  swell  hotels,  like  Ken- 
nett.  All  of  us  were  not  so  lucky  as  to  marry 
heiresses." 


316  FELICIA. 

He  smiled  with  an  air  of  amiable  inadvertence, 
and  reflected  that  this  stroke  would  cut  both  Feli- 
cia and  his  wife,  who  was  gazing  at  the  visitor 
with  a  face  of  blank  amaze. 

Felicia  realized  that  he  had  spoken  to  Kennett 
cf  the  illness  in  his  family  in  such  a  way  as  to 
make  her  husband  feel  that  she  had  been  remiss 
in  not  coming  before,  but  without  the  slightest 
desire  that  she  should  come  at  all.  She  usually 
had  herself  under  good  control,  but  now  she  was 
cruelly  embarrassed.  She  had  colored  deeply ; 
her  voice  faltered  as  she  spoke  to  the  wife.  "  I 
am  sorry  you  are  ill,"  she  said. 

"  I  never  am  well,"  returned  Mrs.  Abbott. 
"  This  is  the  meanest  climate  in  the  world." 

"  The  climate  is  very  changeable,"  said  Felicia, 
sympathetically. 

"  Say !  you  're  always  putting  it  on  something ! " 
exclaimed  Abbott  to  his  wife,  with  sour  jocose- 
ness.  "Yesterday  't  was  because  the  kids  wor- 
ried your  life  out." 

"Well,  they  are  a  bother,"  retorted  Mrs  Ab- 
bott. 

"  And  none  of  them  are  worth  the  powder  and 
lead  't  would  take  to  kill  them,  are  you,  Tom  ?  " 
added  Abbott,  addressing  a  stout  youngster  of 
three  years,  who  had  come  in  from  the  back  room 
and  planted  himself  before  Felicia,  at  whom  he 
was  gazing  with  sharp  gray  eyes.  As  his  father 
spoke,  he  turned  upon  him  for  a  moment  his  ir- 
regular, preternaturally  intelligent  features ;  then 


FELICIA.  317 

shaking  off  the  half-caressing,  half-teasing  pater- 
nal hand  from  his  head,  which  he  had  crowned 
with  the  remnants  of  an. old  blonde  wig,  that  gave 
him  an  inexpressibly  elfish  and  comical  appear- 
ance, he  again  gravely  addressed  himself  to  star- 
ing at  the  visitor. 

Felicia  took  the  little  boy's  pudgy  hand  in  hers 
and  asked  him  his  name,  to  which  he  vouchsafed 
no  reply ;  then,  as  his  attention  was  attracted  to 
her  muff,  he  passed  his  other  hand  along  the  fur, 
and  looked  up  at  her  with  a  dawning  smile. 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  the  role  of  Ludovic," 
said  Felicia,  "  with  your  long  lovelocks,  like  your 
papa?" 

"  No,"  said  the  child,  promptly,  "he  sings  ugly; 
he  's  mean ;  I  hate  him." 

Abbott  burst  out  laughing.  "  That  plucky 
little  rascal  ain't  afraid  of  man  or  beast,"  he 
declared,  pridefully.  "  Sometimes  he  is  great 
friends  with  me.  I  don't  know  what  ails  him  to- 
day." 

He  rose  and  went  into  the  other  room.  "  He 's 
got  to  have  his  snack,"  said  his  wife ;  "he  always 
eats  something  when  he  wakes  up.  Nelly  fixes  it 
for  him  since  I  been  sick  so  much." 

Through  the  open  door  Felicia  could  see  a 
young  woman  moving  about;  there  was  something 
vaguely  familiar  in  her  appearance,  which  pres- 
ently was  recognizable  as  the  recollection  of  the 
chorus  singer  whom  the  manager  had  mimicked, 
on  the  occasion  of  that  first  attendance  at  re- 
hearsal. 


318  FELICIA. 

"  Nelly 's  my  sister,"  said  Mrs.  Abbott,  who 
seemed  pleased  with  a  new  acquaintance,  and  glad 
of  an  opportunity  to  talk.  "  She  stays  with  me 
when  the  troupe  is  here,  and  helps  me  a  deal 
about  my  young  ones.  She  's  in  the  chorus  now, 
but  she  '11  get  her  chance  some  day.  She 's  quick 
an'  smart,  an'  she  's  understudied  ever  so  many 
parts.  I  tell  her  to  keep  clear  of  marryin',  if  she 
knows  what 's  good  for  her." 

The  subdued  roar  of  a  gasoline  stove  was  on  the 
air,  and  presently  the  aroma  of  coffee  arose,  min- 
gled with  the  odor  of  the  burning  gasoline  and 
of  broiling  meat.  The  mantelpiece  in  the  adjoin- 
ing room,  seen  through  the  open  door,  was  orna- 
mented with  a  large  assortment  of  tin  tomato  and 
fruit  cans  and  some  wooden  butter-boats ;  a  sec- 
tion of  a  table  covered  with  a  red  lunch-cloth, 
and  holding  several  plates,  cups,  and  saucers,  was 
also  in  full  view.  Soon  there  was  heard  the  clat- 
ter of  a  knife  and  fork,  above  which  was  the 
sound  of  voices  in  subdued  altercation.  Sud- 
denly, Abbott,  tilted  back  in  his  chair,  became 
visible  in  the  doorway. 

"  Nelly  wants  me  to  ask  you  to  have  something. 
Come  in,  if  you  think  you  can  stand  such  snide 
cooking  as  hers,"  he  said  with  a  grin,  "but  I  don't 
promise  you  much." 

Nelly  also  appeared  in  the  doorway,  all  trace  of 
her  pertness  gone,  flushed  and  confused. 

"  I  can  bring  you  something,  —  you  need  n't 
move,"  she  said,  diffidently. 


FELICIA.  319 

There  is  some  merit  in  Madame  Sevier's  sys- 
tem, after  all,  —  or  perhaps  it  was  only  inborn 
instinct  that  prompted  Felicia.  "  I  have  just  had 
dinner,"  she  said,  —  she  realized  that  Abbott 
would  consider  it  "  frills  "  if  she  called  the  meal 
luncheon,  —  "  but  I  should  be  glad  of  a  cup  of 
coffee." 

They  were  all  pleased  that  she  should  take  it, 
and  Mrs.  Abbott  was  perhaps  pleased  as  well  that 
it  should  be  taken  here,  and  that  the  dishevel- 
ment  of  the  other  room  was  not  also  fully  on  ex- 
hibition. The  coffee  was  very  bad  and  very  badly 
made,  but  Felicia  drank  it  heroically ;  and  it  is 
possible  that  her  assertion  that  she  enjoyed  it  will, 
on  the  day  of  final  reckoning,  meet  with  leniency, 
in  view  of  extenuating  circumstances. 

Nelly  had  placed  a  plate  on  the  floor  beside 
two  little  girls,  who  addressed  to  her  not  one 
word,  but  mechanically  and  absently  devoured 
their  meal,  while  they  did  not  cease  to  carry  their 
respective  dolls  through  the  various  episodes  that 
presented  themselves  to  apparently  redundant  im- 
aginations. The  half-grown  sister,  still  on  skates, 
walked  noisily  through  the  room,  and  seated  her- 
self at  the  table  in  the  inner  apartment.  The 
boy  climbed  up  to  his  chair  beside  her,  and  calmly 
disposed  of  whatever  pleased  him,  feeding  him- 
self unceremoniously  with  his  chubby  fingers. 

It  was  evident  that  this  was  the  usual  family 
life  in  the  queer  home.  Was  it  necessarily,  she 
wondered,  so  forlorn  a  home  ?  Did  it  require  all 


320  FELICIA. 

their  time,  and  thought,  and  effort  merely  to  live, 
to  the  exclusion  of  neatness,  of  beauty,  of  com- 
fort, of  the  becoming-  and  appropriate  ?  At  any 
rate,  a  little  gentleness  and  tender  consideration 
might  inhabit  it  with  them,  instead  of  the  hus- 
band's jeering  pleasantries,  and  the  wife's  weak 
complainings,  and  Nelly's  pettish  temper,  aroused 
more  than  once  by  Abbott's  mocking  sallies. 

Felicia  brought  the  visit  to  a  close  as  soon  as 
possible,  without  making  merely  a  duty  call. 
This  was,  however,  the  manner  in  which  Abbott 
chose  to  regard  the  incident. 

"  I  'in  glad  Kennett  sent  you,"  he  said,  as  he 
accompanied  her  to  the  front  door.  "Jenny 
don't  have  many  pleasures.  Why,"  he  broke  off, 
in  simulated  surprise,  looking  down  the  street, 
"  where  's  your  carriage  ?  You  came  in  the 
street-cars  ?  I  should  n't  suppose  you  'd  conde- 
scend to  ride  in  them,  like  any  ordinary  person. 
Is  Kennett  getting  stingy  to  you  ?  Ah,  well,  love's 
young  dream  is  not  what  it 's  cracked  up  to  be, 
is  it  ?  "  His  face  was  deeply  wrinkled  with  his 
mocking  smile,  particularly  intense  at  this  mo- 
ment. 

Bearing  away  this  last  sarcasm  as  a  sort  of 
flavor,  giving  a  biting  character  to  her  other  trou- 
blous emotions,  Felicia  left  the  house  and  walked 
up  the  street.  What  mistaken  impulse  controlled 
her  that,  in  this  mood,  she  should,  instead  of  sig- 
naling the  car  going  down-town,  turn  her  face  in 
the  direction  of  her  brother's  house ! 


XVI. 

FELICIA  walked  rapidly,  as  if  with  definite  pur- 
pose, fty  degrees  she  entered  a  region  that  gave 
evidence  of  more  prosperity  and  comfort.  Still 
going  westward,  she  came  at  last  into  a  fashion- 
able neighborhood  of  showy  dwellings,  ambitious 
in  architecture  and  finish,  the  abodes  of  the 
wealthy  class  of  the  city. 

The  quick-coming  winter  twilight  was  already 
at  hand.  Snow  was  again  falling,  sifting  deli- 
cately down,  incidentally  as  it  were.  Lights  had 
sprung  into  many  windows ;  the  round  dimpled 
faces  of  children  looked  out  sometimes.  In  front 
of  one  of  the  large  houses  a  florist's  wagon  had 
drawn  up  to  the  curb,  giving  suggestions  of  im- 
pending festivity.  Before  a  great  stone  church 
stood  a  number  of  carriages ;  and  presently  there 
was  a  stir  among  the  expectant  groups  on  the 
sidewalk,  as  a  bridal  party  emerged  from  the 
arched  doorway.  And  at  the  next  corner  was  a 
procession  returning  from  the  cemetery :  a  hearse 
with  sombre  plumes,  and  vehicles  containing 
black -robed  figures  with  chilled,  grief -marked 
faces.  The  muffled  drivers  urged  their  tired 
horses.  Darkness  was  gathering  fast.  The  still, 
snow-covered  city  of  the  dead  lay  miles  away  in 
the  dusk. 


322  FELICIA. 

She  had  no  sympathies,  no  reflections,  no  de- 
ductions, half  acquiescent,  half  philosophical ;  no 
"  bonheur,  malheur,  tout  passe"  as  a  mental 
comment.  In  certain  states  of  feeling  one's  own 
grief  dwarfs  the  universe,  annihilates  joy  and 
sorrow,  save  as  factors  in  one's  own  fate. 

She  had  reached  that  very  desirable  corner  and 
the  big  new  double  house.  She  paused  suddenly. 
The  window  shades  had  not  been  drawn,  but  the 
gas  was  lighted.  She  seemed  to  have  stood  thus 
in  front  of  the  building  many  times,  and  looked 
in  at  the  glowing  room,  so  vividly  had  she  ima- 
gined the  situation.  It  was  all  exactly  as  she  had 
pictured  it,  —  the  chandeliers,  the  paintings,  the 
upholstery.  And  here  was  John  ;  just  in  from 
dinner,  no  doubt,  for  he  threw  himself  into  an 
easy-chair,  and  caught  up  the  paper  with  his  own 
inimitable,  long,  visible,  post-prandial  sigh.  And 
here  was  Sophie,  sinking  into  her  rocking-chair, 
with  the  baby  in  her  arms.  The  baby  —  no,  an- 
other baby.  Ah,  changes  of  which  she  was  never 
apprised  came  in  their  family  life,  from  which 
she  was  excluded.  The  old  baby,  the  superseded 
baby,  her  namesake,  little  Felicia,  was  walking 
sturdily  across  the  floor  in  her  dainty  white  dress, 
with  her  soft  fair  hair  about  her  brow,  holding 
out  her  dimpled  hands  toward  —  Oh,  why  had 
she  come,  —  why  had  she  come  !  Suddenly  she 
saw  her  father,  unchanged,  save  perhaps  that  his 
hair  had  a  more  silvery  gleam.  He  stooped  and 
took  the  child  in  his  arms  ;  he  kissed  the  delicate 


323 

cheek.  Did  he  call  her  "  little  daughter  "?  Did 
he  say  in  his  old,  tender,  peremptory  tone,  "  Feli- 
cia "  ?  Did  he  never  remember  another  Felicia, 
whose  heart  was  breaking  ? 

She  got  back  to  the  hotel  as  best  she  could. 
She  was  so  white,  so  rigid,  with  the  effort  at  self- 
command  that,  as  she  met  Keunett  in  the  hall, 
near  their  room,  he  looked  at  her  in  alarm. 

"  Has  anything  happened  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

She  entered  the  room,  and  he  followed  her. 
Then,  as  she  closed  the  door,  she  confronted  him 
with  haggard  eyes. 

"  Can  I  endure  it  longer  ?  "  she  cried,  wildly. 
"  Can  I  live  like  this  ?  Live  !  Am  I  living  ? 
And  yet  I  am  not  dead.  I  could  not  suffer  so  if 
I  were  dead." 

He  saw  it  at  last.  She  was  suffering  poign- 
antly. He  attempted  to  soothe  her. 

"  Don't  try  to  comfort  me  !  "  she  said.  "  Don't 
tell  me  it  does  n't  matter.  We  must  face  it ;  we 
must  meet  it." 

"  Now  be  calm,  Felicia,"  he  said,  in  that  rea- 
sonable voice  of  his  which  could  once  control  her, 
but  which  now,  in  some  moods,  irritated  her  be- 
yond endurance.  "  Tell  me  what  you  mean.  I 
promise  beforehand  to  do  anything  possible  that 
you  desire." 

She  tried  to  control  herself,  to  subdue  her 
heavy  panting  and  the  strong  trembling  that  had 
seized  upon  her,  to  steady  her  shaking  fingers  as 
they  convulsively  unfastened  her  wrap  and  re- 


324  FELICIA. 

moved  her  gloves.  One  of  her  rings  was  acciden- 
tally drawn  off  and  fell  upon  the  floor.  As  her 
husband  bent  to  recover  it  she  stopped  him. 

"  What  does  it  matter  !  "  she  cried.  "  It  is 
only  a  bauble.  But  when  our  happiness,  our 
priceless  happiness,  slips  away  from  us,  you  make 
not  the  slightest  effort  to  get  it  back.  You  never 
see  it.  You  never  stoop  for  it.  You  don't  even 
know  it  has  gone.  You  never  miss  it." 

Her  slim  fingers  tightened  on  his  arm.  Her 
agitation  communicated  itself  to  him.  There  was 
a  responsive  tremor  in  his  voice. 

"  Are  you  reproaching  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  no !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  will  not  re- 
proach you." 

Again  she  put  a  strong  constraint  upon  herself. 
She  removed  her  hands  from  his  arms,  and  crossed 
the  room.  She  laid  aside  her  wrap  and  bonnet,  and 
as  she  came  back  she  stooped,  picked  up  the  ring, 
and  placed  it  on  her  shaking  finger.  With  marked 
deliberation  of  gesture  she  seated  herself,  and 
when  she  looked  up  he  saw  how  much  her  forced 
calm  was  costing  her ;  her  strength  was  spent. 

"  Don't  be  angry,"  she  said,  piteously. 

"  I  am  only  distressed,"  he  replied,  gently. 

"  I  want  to  be  reasonable,"  she  went  on,  more 
firmly,  "  and  I  will  try  not  to  distress  you." 

"  What  is  it?"  he  asked,  as  he  seated  himself. 

"  Hugh,  it  is  the  life  we  live.  It  is  a  terrible 
fate  to  be  excluded  from  everything  of  value, 
from  all  the  world,  from  all  appropriate  sur- 


FELICIA.  325 

roundings ;  cut  off,  exiled,  interdicted,  denied, 
yet  tantalized  with  the  sight  of  it,  so  close  to  it ! 
Is  there  nothing  —  is  there  nothing  we  can  do  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  silence. 

"  It  is  such  a  false  position,"  she  went  on  pas- 
sionately, her  meagre  stock  of  calmness  already 
giving  way,  "  that  you,  with  your  nature  and  your 
talents,  should  have  for  your  best  friend  that  — 
that  —  venomous  man  !  He  is  your  equal  in  sta- 
tion, and  yet  he  is  not  your  equal  any  more  than 
a  drunken  tramp ;  and  his  wife  is  not  my  equal." 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  asked  you  to  go  there," 
he  said.  "Yet  what  does  it  matter  to  us?  Why 
do  you  care  for  Abbott's  manner?  He  can  be 
very  disagreeable,  but  he  has  some  good  qualities. 
At  any  rate,  he  is  nothing  to  us." 

"  Oli,  facts  are  —  facts  !  He  and  his  wife  are 
our  friends,  our  circle,  —  the  only  circle  we  have. 
Think  of  it !  That  is  the  only  woman  with  whom 
I  have  exchanged  a  dozen  words  since  —  since 
Mrs.  Morris  was  so  kind  and  polite,  last  summer." 

She  broke  into  a  bitter  laugh  that  ended  with  a 
gush  of  tears.  She  brushed  them  away  hastily. 

"And  such  a  home  !  so  ignoble,  so  grotesque  ! 
such  rudeness,  such  unkindness,  such  loutish  indif- 
ference !  too  stupid  to  be  even  unhappiness.  It 
is  not  the  poverty;  it  is  the  dreadful,  dreadful 
tone;  it  is  almost  disreputable.  And  there  are 
other  homes  so  different.  I  see  them  through  the 
windows  as  I  go  along  the  streets.  Homes 
.where  husbands  respect  their  wives,  and  children 


326  FELICIA. 

love  their  parents ;  where  I  see  serenity,  and 
security,  and  tenderness,  and  veneration.  Oh, 
Hugh,  Hugh,  I  passed  John's,  and  —  oh  me  — 
papa  —  papa!  " 

Her  voice  broke  into  cries ;  her  figure  was 
shaken  by  convulsive  sobs ;  the  tears  trickled 
through  her  fingers.  He  could  only  look  at  her 
miserably,  forlornly,  helplessly. 

By  degrees  the  violence  of  her  emotion  ex- 
pended itself,  and  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair, 
holding  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  He  took 
her  other  hand,  cold  and  nerveless,  in  his,  but  he 
said  nothing. 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  tell  you  that,"  she  went 
on,  after  a  long  pause.  "  I  only  wanted  to  tell 
you  what  I  was  thinking  on  my  way  back.  I 
went  over  the  whole  ground.  I  reasoned  it  out 
calmly.  I  feel  that  we  must  get  out  of  this  false 
position,  away  from  this  odious  association  with 
unendurable  people.  If  we  would,  we  could  take 
the  place  we  ought  to  have  in  the  world,  —  a 
solid,  valuable  place.  We  would  not  be  rich, 
perhaps  not  more  than  comfortable ;  but  we 
could  live,  we  could  be  very  happy,  and  very  — 
very  "  — 

He  stared  at  her  in  such  unfeigned  amazement 
that  she  faltered.  Was  she  seriously  proposing 
that  he  should  relinquish  his  career  because  Mr. 
Abbott  was  ill-natured,  and  lived  shabbily,  and 
had  a  commonplace  family,  and  because  she  had 
given  up,  as  she  had  expected  to  do,  the  associa*. 
tions  of  her  girlhood  ? 


FELICIA.  827 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  talking  very 
wildly,"  he  said,  with  coldness. 

"  Hear  me  out,  Hugh  !  "  she  cried,  placing  her 
other  hand  on  his  with  a  firm  grasp,  and  looking 
at  him  with  earnest  eyes.  "  You  would  n't  mind 
it  after  a  little.  You  were  satisfied  last  summer. 
We  were  very  happy.  We  could  be  everything 
to  each  other ;  could  we  not,  Hugh  ?  Once  we 
were.  Oh,  you  know  we  were  once  !  As  it  is,  I 
do  not  share  your  life.  I  have  none  of  my  own. 
I  merely  exist,  like  a  parasite,  —  a  poor,  useless, 
insignificant  appendage.  And  you,  —  are  you 
not  worthy  of  a  better  niche  than  that  which  Mr. 
Abbott  and  Mr.  Preston  aspire  to  fill  ?  You 
could  get  into  something  intrinsically  valuable. 
A  man  of  your  capacities  can  do  anything." 

He  marveled  that  she  could  be  at  once  so  quick 
and  so  dense. 

"  Capacities  count  for  nothing  in  any  line," 
he  said,  "  without  special  training.  I  have  had 
training  in  only  one  direction." 

She  looked  at  him  vaguely.  "Isn't  there 
something  f  "  she  asked. 

"If  I  should  give- up  the  stage,"  he  went  on, — 
"  the  mere  idea  is  preposterous,  —  how  could  we 
live  ?  Do  you  think  it  would  be  well  for  me  to 
devote  my  life  and  talents  to  giving  music  lessons 
because  you  consider  that  more  genteel  ?  " 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  sarcastic  to  me  — 
again  f "  she  cried,  with  a  sharp  ring  of  pain  in 
her  voice. 


328  FELICIA. 

His  sense  of  irritation  had  been  asserting  itself 
over  his  dismayed  surprise.  Now  it  received  a 
check.  He  resolved  that,  say  what  she  might,  he 
would  speak  no  words  that  could  rankle  as  those 
words  which  he  once  spoke  in  his  wrath  had 
rankled. 

"•  My  only  opportunities  lie  in  the  line  of  mu- 
sic," he  continued.  "  I  might  do  something  in 
the  way  of  composing  songs,  but  in  my  case  that 
would  be  too  precarious  to  be  considered.  A  man 
could  not  rely  for  a  living  on  lucky  inspirations 
which  would  sell.  They  might  not  present  them- 
selves." 

Was  this  all  ?  Could  life  hold  out  to  him,  with 
his  mind  and  his  character,  no  other  fate  than 
such  a  meagre  uncertainty  as  writing  songs,  or 
the  ill-paid  drudgery  of  music  lessons,  or  the 
opportunity  of  singing  in  tights  and  with  a 
painted  face  for  the  well-to-do,  well-placed  peo- 
ple who  held  themselves  immeasurably  his  supe- 
riors ? 

She  spoke  suddenly,  with  a  new  firmness. 

"You  can  give  up  the  stage,"  she  declared. 
"  We  can  live  perfectly  well  on  my  property  that 
my  mother's  father  left  me.  You  remember, 
when  I  finally  decided  to  be  married,  my  brother 
sent  a  lawyer  with  settlements  for  you  to  sign, 
and  you  signed  them,  and  the  income  is  to  be  put 
aside  for  me.  Why  can't  we  live  on  that  prop- 
erty? Why  need  you  do  anything?  How  can 
two  people  who  love  each  other  say  about  money, 


FELICIA.  329 

*  This  is  yours,'  or  '  This  is  mine  '  ?  Will  you 
weigh  my  happiness  against  your  pride  ?  " 

He  made  no  reply,  but  his  face  expressed 
strong  displeasure.  She  broke  again  into  en- 
treaties. Her  loss  of  self-control  was  rare. 
"With  perfect  health  and  strong  will,  she  was  in- 
tolerant of  nerves,  and  tears,  and  weakness.  The 
utter  relinquishment  of  her  wonted  composure 
added  to  his  difficulties. 

"  It  is  not  that  I  am  a  snob,"  she  persisted. 
"  I  don't  want  you  to  misunderstand  me.  I  don't 
value  the  opinion  of  rich  and  great  people.  I 
don't  care  for  their  money  or  their  approval.  I 
don't  care  for  poverty ;  that  is  not  what  I  fear. 
I  don't  want  a  fine  house,  and  carriages,  and 
horses,  and  carte  blanche  to  spend  as  I  choose. 
Once  I  thought  I  did,  but  I  know  myself  better 
now.  I  did  myself  injustice.  That  is  not  what  I 
value." 

He  looked  at  her  vaguely.  "  Then  what  is  it 
you  value  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  My  pride,  —  my  sacred  pride." 

He  said  nothing. 

"  It  is  stabbed  every  day,  —  every  hour.  My 
portion  in  life  is  humiliation.  It  is  not  because 
the  people  who  have  a  valuable  position  think 
ours  an  unendurable  position  ;  it  is  because  I  my- 
self think  it  unendurable.  And  so  I  want  to  give 
up  this  life  which  offers  nothing  that  is  truly  of 
worth,  —  nothing  but  the  praise  of  your  singing 
from  a  foolish  public  which  does  not  know  any- 


330  FELICIA. 

thing  about  singing.  I  want  to  go  to  the  planta- 
tion, and  live  there  imostentatiously,  and  quietly, 
and  suitably.  Promise  me,  Hugh.  We  could 
have  a  home.  It  would  not  be  fine,  but  it  would 
be  our  own  home."  She  glanced  at  her  little  be- 
longings, that  so  vainly  simulated  that  altar  before 
which  every  woman's  heart  prostrates  itself,  sooner 
or  later.  "  We  could  live  for  each  other  there. 
We  should  not  need  to  have  those  odious  misun- 
derstandings as  part  of  our  lives.  Promise  me, 
Hugh." 

There  was  a  long  pause  while  she  sat  clasping 
his  hands,  her  eloquent  eyes  on  his  face. 

"The  thing  is  impossible,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  even  if  I  were  to  consent,  which  nothing  would 
induce  me  to  do." 

"  Why  is  it  impossible  ?  " 

Again  he  hesitated.  "  I  prefer  not  to  tell 
you." 

"  But  I  insist,  —  I  insist." 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  force  this  upon  me,"  he 
said,  rising  and  walking  in  indecision  about  the 
room. 

"  I  do  force  it.     I  will  know." 

"  Why,  Felicia,  you  evidently  don't  understand 
that  the  income  of  that  property  would  not  sup- 
port us  in  even  the  plainest  style.  The  property 
is  at  present  utterly  unsalable.  Much  of  the 
land  is  heavily  wooded  ;  much  of  it  has  been  de- 
nuded of  trees,  and  is  covered  with  cypress 
stumps,  and  beside  is  cut  up  by  bayous  and  is 


FELICIA.  331 

under  water  nearly  half  the  year,  —  it  is  unfit  for 
cultivation.  The  rents  of  the  small  portion  that 
has  been  cleared  are  not  enough,  I  should  judge, 
after  the  taxes  are  paid,  to  do  more  than  compass 
your  dressmaker's  bills.  The  property  may  have 
a  future,  when  it  is  cleared,  or  when  railroads  are 
built  and  the  country  is  developed,  but  at  present 
it  is  unavailable  from  many  points  of  view.  I 
would  not  live  as  you  propose  if  it  were  possible  ; 
as  it  is  not  possible,  you  had  better  dismiss  the 
idea  from  consideration." 

She  looked  at  him  blankly. 

"  I  never  was  there,  but  I  thought  it  was  a  fine 
plantation.  I  thought  we  might  go  there  and 
live  quietly,  — as  happily  as  we  did  last  summer." 

"  It  is  not  a  fine  plantation.  Besides,  there  is 
no  house  on  the  place  except  a  few  negro  cabins  ; 
and  if  there  were  a  house  we  should  die  of  mala- 
ria. Neither  of  us  is  acclimated  to  the  swamp. 
And  there  is  practically  no  income." 

A  long  pause  ensued. 

"  But  I  have  always  been  called  an  heiress," 
she  said,  piteously. 

"  You  have  been  called  an  heiress  more  on  ac- 
count of  your  expectations  from  your  father  than 
because  of  what  you  actually  possess,"  he  replied. 

She  was  bitterly  disappointed ;  in  surprise  he 
saw  that  she  was  bitterly  humiliated.  She  had 
sunk  in  her  own  estimation. 

It  was  not,  perhaps,  to  his  credit  that  he  stood 
on  higher  ground  in  certain  regards  than  she. 


332  FELICIA. 

He  owed  it  rather  to  his  Bohemian  method  of 
living  than  to  any  innate  nobility,  that  he  cared 
for  money  because  of  what  it  would  buy.  While 
she  did  not  sufficiently  prize,  in  one  sense,  money, 
she  definitely  prized  wealth,  its  subtler  as  well  as 
its  practical  values.  Her  fortune,  her  conse- 
quence, her  expensive  social  training  and  educa- 
tion, and  her  position,  had  all  been  a  part  of  her- 
self;  she  had  adequately,  perhaps  unconsciously, 
appreciated  them  ;  she  had  appreciated  herself 
much  because  of  them. 

She  lifted  her  dismayed  eyes  to  his.  All  at 
once  she  held  out  both  hands  with  an  expressive 
gesture  of  despair. 

"  If  I  am  not  rich,"  she  said,  in  a  tense,  low 
voice,  "  what  am  I  ?  I  have  no  talents,  no  occu- 
pation, no  hopes,  no  friends,  no  home.  And  no 
money  as  well  ?  I  am  indeed  a  poor  thing,  —  a 
parasite,  mean  and  insignificant." 

In  some  respects  hers  was  the  stronger  nature  ; 
under  her  influence  he  saw  her  sorrows  with  her 
eyes.  It  might  have  occurred  to  a  different  man 
to  suggest  that  she  was,  instead  of  this,  a  wife 
who  held  in  trust  her  husband's  happiness  as  well 
as  her  own. 

Suddenly  she  cried  out  sharply  :  — 

"  And  we  have  no  choice  ?  You  are  sure  ? 
We  must  live  on  this  way,  in  this  repulsive  at- 
mosphere, —  with  these  men  we  know,  and  these 
—  these  women  ?  Can't  you  see  that  it  is  killing 
me  ?  I  am  dying  by  inches  !  I  am  torn  to  pieces  I 


FELICIA.  833 

I  am  broken  on  the  rack !  To  breathe  the  same 
air  that  she  —  that  they  do  !  To  see  you  —  to 
see  you  look  as  you  did  last  night  when  —  when 
—  you  spoke  of  —  Oh,  what  am  I  saying  !  And 
she  calls  you  —  calls  you  '  Hugh  '  !  She  dares  to 
call  you  by  your  name  !  And  last  night  — when 
you  spoke  of  her  you  looked  —  you  looked  —  Oh, 
how  can  I  remember  it  and  live !  "  She  rose  and 
walked  wildly  about  the  room,  striking  her  hands 
frantically  together.  He  sat  motionless,  staring 
at  her,  the  amazement  in  his  face  canceling  all 
other  expressions.  For  the  moment  he  was  pos- 
sessed by  the  idea  that  she  had  lost  her  senses. 
Then  there  flashed  into  his  mind  the  thought  that 
there  was  something  deeper  than  the  grievance  of 
their  mode  of  life,  —  something  more  bitter  than 
merely  external  conditions,  bitter  though  he  knew 
they  were  to  her.  In  his  surprise  and  agitation 
he  had  hardly  followed  what  she  was  saying. 

"I  —     I  don't  understand  you  "  —  he  began. 

In  a  moment  there  came  to  him  a  vague  realiza- 
tion of  her  full  meaning.  He  rose  and  confronted 
her.  "  Tell  me,"  he  said,  catching  both  her  hands 
in  his,  and  bringing  her  irregular  progress  to  a 
stop,  —  "  tell  me  what  it  is  you  mean." 

She  stood  panting,  and  looking  at  him  with  di- 
lated, terrified  eyes.  For  all  at  once  she  was 
afraid  of  him.  That  latent  ferocity  which  was  so 
seldom  called  to  his  face  expressed  itself  now  in 
the  stern  eyes,  the  strong  lower  jaw  brought  heav- 
ily forward,  the  set  teeth,  the  intent  frown.  She 


334  FELICIA. 

shrank  away  from  him.  "  I  don't  know  what  I 
meant ! "  she  cried,  piteously.  "  It  is  all  folly. 
I  am  ill.  I  am  nervous.  I  don't  mean  any- 
thing!" 

"  What  did  you  mean  by  what  you  said  ?  "  he 
persisted.  "  Look  at  me,  Felicia.  Tell  me  what 
you  meant." 

His  deep  gray  eyes,  lit  by  that  unwonted  fire, 
constrained  her.  In  what  broken  words  she  could 
command  she  told  him  what  had  been  in  her 
thoughts  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours.  She  in- 
terrupted herself  sometimes  by  cries  and  hysteri- 
cal sobs,  and  more  than  once  declared  wildly  that 
she  had  been  nervous  and  ill ;  she  had  not  been 
herself ;  she  had  been  frantic  with  a  delusion. 
In  her  agitation  she  did  not  see  that  she  had 
taken  all  the  blame  to  herself ;  she  only  saw  that 
he  was  intensely  angry,  and  her  arraignment 
seemed  to  her  now  strangely  inadequate. 

He  heard  her  through  without  a  word  of  reply. 
When  she  had  concluded,  he  stood  motionless  a 
moment ;  then  he  threw  her  hands  from  him.  It 
might  have  been  a  sarcastic  commentary  upon  the 
habit  of  mind  which  had,  through  years  of  train- 
ing, come  to  be  his  second  nature,  that,  at  this 
moment  of  supreme  earnestness,  the  gesture  was 
one  suggestive  of  finished  feigning,  —  the  ac- 
cepted stage  expression  of  renunciation.  He 
caught  up  his  overcoat,  tossed  it  over  his  arm, 
and  looked  about  for  his  hat,  still  ominously 
silent. 


FELICIA.  335 

«*  Oh,  Hugh,  Hugh,"  she  cried,  catching  at  his 
hand,  "you  are  not  going  without  a  word  to 
me?" 

"  Such  discussions  do  no  good,"  he  said.  His 
voice  was  cold,  but  it  trembled ;  his  hands  were 
shaking. 

"  You  are  angry  with  me !  You  will  say  no- 
thing —  give  me  no  assurance  "  — 

"You  want  your  husband  to  assure  you  that 
he  is  not  a  scoundrel  ?  I  cannot  find  words  for 
that." 

He  opened  the  door  and  made  his  way  along 
the  hall,  striving  to  quiet  his  nerves  and  master 
his  agitation.  He  walked  downstairs  instead  of 
ringing  for  the  elevator.  As  he  passed  through 
the  office,  the  current  of  his  thoughts  was  sharply 
altered.  His  eyes  chanced  to  fall  upon  the  big 
clock.  He  took  out  his  watch,  and  hurriedly 
compared  the  two  timepieces.  There  was  no  mis- 
take. 

These  complicated  domestic  discussions  require 
time.'  It  was  past  eight  o'clock. 

He  encountered  a  messenger  in  red-hot  haste, 
as  he  neared  the  theatre.  When  he  arrived,  he 
met  black  looks,  and  swift  reproaches,  and  eager 
injunctions.  He  heeded  nothing.  He  absorbed 
himself,  mind  and  body,  in  the  feat  of  changing 
his  clothes  in  the  least  possible  time,  and,  without 
an  instant's  intermission,  he  who  had  so  ordered 
his  life  that  for  ten  years  he  had  not  permitted 
himself  to  be  hurried,  or  agitated,  or  derelict, 


336  FELICIA. 

who  accounted  serenity  of  soul  and  mastery  of  the 
physique  the  first  elements  of  artistic  excellence, 
walked  upon  the  stage  into  the  presence  of  a  large 
and  critical  audience,  dazed,  panting,  breathless, 
dinnerless,  —  prosaic  consideration,  but  of  primal 
importance  to  a  singer,  —  his  limbs  trembling, 
his  nerves  shattered,  his  memory  and  his  voice 
at  the  mercy  of  the  accidents  of  the  evening. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  long  anguish  of  that  per- 
formance would  never  drag  to  its  conclusion. 
His  previous  habit  of  self-command  was  as  if  it 
had  never  existed ;  it  had  prepared  him  for  no 
such  emergency,  no  such  tumult  of  feeling,  as  this. 
During  the  waits  he  struggled  frantically  for  com- 
posure. "  You  're  all  right  now,  dear  old  boy," 
Abbott  said  to  him  again  and  again ;  and  was 
that  the  voice  so  often  heard  in  bitter  satires,  and 
in  taunts  that  stung  like  the  lash  of  a  whip? 
Venom  ?  It  was  so  gentle  and  mellifluous,  so 
fraternal  and  cordial,  that  Kenuett  found  himself 
relying  on  it  as  he  had  never  before  relied  on  any 
power  outside  of  his  own  control.  While  he  was 
on  the  stage,  he  would  without  warrant  or  prece- 
dent change  his  place,  that  he  might  feel  the 
strong  support  of  a  friendly  proximity ;  a  sympa- 
thetic hand  laid  on  his  shoulder  when  it  might 
be  ;  a  few  words  in  an  undertone  ;  the  glance  of 
eyes  that  he  had  often  known  as  mocking,  often 
quizzical,  but  now  kind  —  kind. 

This  influence  helped  him  to  regain  in  some 
degree  his  tranquillity.  To  the  general  public 


FELICIA.  337 

there  was  as  yet  nothing  unusual.  To  those 
versed  in  the  minutiae  of  theatrical  matters  a 
hurry  was  perceptible,  an  eagerness :  a  lack  of  the 
polish,  assurance,  control,  that  usually  character- 
ized him.  Perhaps  his  modicum  of  self-posses- 
sion came  to  him  a  little  too  early,  bringing  with 
it  a  relaxation  of  the  intense  strain  that  had 
served  him  in  lien  of  his  wonted  calm  equipoise. 

In  the  last  scene  of  the  last  act  he  had  a  solo, 
through  which  ran,  as  an  accompaniment,  a  se- 
ries of  pianissimo  phrases  by  a  chorus  of  female 
voices,  —  a  nice  effect  and  very  popular.  It  oc- 
curred at  an  important  moment,  —  the  culmina- 
tion of  the  act,  and  indeed  of  the  whole  work. 
What  was  the  matter  with  it?  Was  the  orches- 
tra to  blame,  the  chorus?  In  another  instant  the 
fact  was  evident.  The  voice  of  the  soloist  was 
not  only  faulty  of  intonation,  but  false,  —  glar- 
ingly, grotesquely  false ;  by  turns  flat  and  sharp, 
completely  out  of  tune.  The  most  unmusical  au- 
ditor could  not  fail  to  notice  it ;  it  was  an  afflic- 
tion to  connoisseurs.  The  volume  and  robustness 
of  tone  only  intensified  the  discord ;  the  anguish 
on  the  singer's  face  pointed  the  disaster. 

"  This  is  the  beginning  of  the  end,"  said  Ab- 
bott to  Preston,  off  at  the  right  wing. 
"  Fee,  f  o,  fi,  f  um, 
I  smell  the  blood  of  an  American  man," 

returned  Preston,  smothering  his  laugh. 

The  English  tenor  also  smelt  the  blood  of  an 
American  man;  he  kept,  with  what  decency  he 


338  FELICIA. 

might,  his  elation  out  of  his  face,  but  his  eyes 
were  gleaming. 

Kennett  was  calm  enough  at  last ;  the  worst 
had  happened.  He  dashed  aside  the  icy  drops 
that  had  started  upon  his  brow ;  he  moved  with 
ease ;  his  voice  was  itself  once  more.  There  was 
little  after  this  for  him  to  do.  He  did  it  smoothly 
and  mechanically  enough.  As  he  took  his  way  to 
his  dressing-room,  he  passed,  near  one  of  the  wings, 
the  manager,  who  did  not  look  toward  him,  and 
whose  face  wore  a  certain  absolute  neutrality  more 
expressive  of  intense  anger  than  the  most  indig- 
nant glance. 

"  Go  and  get  drunk,  Kennett,"  said  Abbott, 
bitterly,  —  "  go  and  get  drunk.  That 's  the  only 
thing  for  you  now." 

He  made  no  reply.  He  composedly  changed 
his  clothes,  and  took  his  way  to  the  hotel. 

He  hardly  looked  at  Felicia.  In  his  preoccu- 
pation, he  did  not  notice,  as  he  entered  the  room, 
that  she  was  coming  toward  him  with  outstretched 
hands,  —  that  her  face  was  eager,  her  eyes  appeal- 
ing. She  stopped  abruptly  as  he  spoke. 

"  Does  it  never  occur  to  you,"  he  said,  crossing 
his  arms  on  the  back  of  a  large  easy-chair  and 
leaning  on  them,  "  that  you  undertake  a  serious 
responsibility  when  you  use  your  influence  on  a 
man  to  frustrate  his  ambition  and  nullify  his 
talents?" 

"  What  has  happened  ? "  she  asked,  tremu- 
lously. 


FELICIA.  339 

"  I  made  a  bad  failure  to-night,  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life."  After  a  pause,  he  added,  with  a 
short  laugh,  "  A  few  more  such  unnerving  scenes 
as  we  had  this  evening,  and  it  will  not  be  a  ques- 
tion of  relinquishing  the  stage." 

He  had  intended  to  say  much  in  reproach ;  he 
did  not  relent,  but  suddenly  all  the  fire  of  his  in- 
dignation seemed  spent.  He  was  leaning  heavily 
on  the  chair,  his  tired  eyes  on  the  floor,  his  list- 
less hands  hanging  before  him. 

She  took  one  of  them  in  hers :  it  lay  unrespon- 
sive in  her  clasp  for  a  moment ;  then  he  withdrew 
it. 

"  I  must  get  into  the  air  I "  he  exclaimed,  ab- 
ruptly. 

He  went  out  without  another  word. 

He  walked  far  that  night,  —  at  first  irregularly, 
spasmodically ;  his  heavy  feet  hardly  dragging 
along  in  obedience  to  his  languid  will ;  his  deadly 
fatigue  a  trifle  less  potent  than  the  torture  of  rest- 
lessness that  had  taken  possession  of  him.  Grad- 
ually the  reserve  force  of  his  splendid  physique 
began  to  assert  itself;  his  step  grew  more  firm 
and  rapid ;  he  made  his  way  doggedly  through 
the  thickly  falling  snow,  which  stung  cruelly  as  it 
fell,  for  a  blizzard  was  blowing.  And  from  the 
vague  haze  of  his  mental  processes  consecutive 
thought  came  to  him,  — dreary  thinking.  He 
went  back  over  many  years  of  toilsome  endeavor 
and  patient  purpose.  It  had  been  hard  to  com- 
pass his  present  place;  he  had  expected  to  go 


340  FELICIA. 

much  further ;  he*  had  felt  that  the  end  justified 
every  labor  and  relinquish tnent.  If  it  were  in- 
deed ungenteel,  according  to  superficial  standards, 
what  did  that  matter?  Little  points  of  spurious 
worldly  value  were  not  to  be  considered.  It  was 
his  calling,  for  which  he  was  fitted  by  the  gift  of 
nature  and  half  a  lifetime  of  effort,  —  a  posses- 
sion of  intrinsic  value,  aesthetically  and  practi- 
cally. 

And  now,  what  of  the  result,  —  what  of  his 
future  ? 

That  he  should  retrace  lost  ground,  bitterly 
won ;  retrieve  his  prestige ;  recapture  the  favor 
of  the  exacting  public,  easy  to  offend,  hard  to  pro- 
pitiate ;  overcome  the  eager  and  insidious  dispar- 
agement which  follows  so  close  upon  failure  or 
partial  failure,  and  fatally  difficult  to  confute 
when  the  point  at  issue  is  anything  so  intangible 
as  purity  of  tone,  pitch,  quality,  —  this  was  his 
immediate  future.  And  for  the  rest,  —  his  ulti- 
mate future?  In  one  brief  moment  to-night  he  had 
been  grieved  by  his  wife's  grief ;  his  heart  had 
been  more  cruelly  stabbed  by  the  affront  of  her 
jealousy.  Now  these  considerations  were  in  the 
background ;  already  they  had  taken  their  place 
only  as  an  element  affecting  the  development  of 
his  ambition  and  his  capacities.  So  it  was  that  he 
asked  himself  what,  if  hampered  by  the  influence 
of  an  unhappy  domestic  life,  was  to  be  his  future. 
It  was  to  enter  into  a  race  handicapped  ;  to  essay 
to  soar  with  clipped  wings ;  to  drag  down  to 


FELICIA.  341 

the  plane  of  mechanical,  unlighted  drudgery  the 
delicate  and  ethereal  achievements  of  inspiration 
and  talent,  and  a  most  artistic  school.  It  was  to 
convert  his  life's  ambitious  into  a  life's  failure, 
—  not  tame,  inconspicuous  failure,  but  public, 
absolute,  ludicrous,  pitiable,  egregious. 


xvn. 

ONE  of  the  distinctive  qualities  of  a  woman's 
grief  is  its  possibility  of  duality.  During  Ken- 
nett's  absence  at  the  theatre,  Felicia,  reviewing 
the  scene  between  them,  feeling  vicariously  all 
that  he  had  felt,  the  pain,  the  repulsion,  the  amaze- 
ment, the  shocked  realization,  was  also  acutely 
conscious  that  he  had  not  uttered  one  word  of 
vindication,  of  denial.  She  endured  for  him  as 
well  as  for  herself :  the  poignancy  of  his  wounded 
pride  and  affection  as  a  humiliated  and  insulted 
man ;  her  doubts  and  despair  as  a  wretched  and 
jealous  woman. 

And  when  he  returned,  instead  of  the  re- 
proaches she  feared,  the  reconciliation  she  hoped, 
he  told  her  of  his  failure.  That  seemed  a  minor 
matter  until  she  noted  the  change  in  his  face. 
The  expressions  he  had  formerly  worn  were  as 
foreign  to  it  now  as  if  that  other  happier,  more 
fortunate  entity  he  once  was  had  been  the  inhab- 
itant of  another  planet.  Sharp  care  had  regis- 
tered itself  in  strong,  definite  lines  between  his 
brows  and  about  his  mouth ;  the  muscles  of  his 
face  seemed  to  have  relaxed ;  it  was  strangely 
heavy,  inert ;  beneath  his  eyes  was  that  indescrib- 
able yet  unmistakable  imprint  left  by  a  stupen- 


FELICIA.  343 

dous  nervous  shock.  His  expression  was  as  if  he 
had  received  a  mortal  blow. 

She  heard,  with  a  sort  of  anguished  incredulity, 
slowly  resolving  itself  into  dismayed  realization, 
those  bitter  words  of  his  which  imputed  to  her 
the  responsibility  of  his  failure.  And  she  had 
done  this  thing  ?  Was  it  through  her  that  this 
calamity  had  come  upon  him  ? 

It  was  like  murder,  she  said  to  herself,  in  her 
terror  and  abasement  and  tumult  of  anxiety,  to 
interfere  with  a  man's  life-work,  to  obliterate  his 
ambitions,  to  frustrate  his  achievement,  to  be  the 
cause,  direct  or  remote,  which  brought  him  to  a 
crisis  affecting  him  like  this. 

And  when  he  again  left  her  suddenly,  declar- 
ing that  he  must  get  out  into  the  air,  she  had 
these  thoughts  for  company.  Her  grievances, 
her  disappointments,  even  her  doubts  of  him,  were 
far  from  her  now.  Had  she  done  a  cruel  thing  ? 
Was  it  irreparable  ?  Had  the  elements  which 
had  been  at  work  in  her  character  during  the  last 
year ' —  since,  in  fact,  she  had,  with  her  eyes  open 
and  aware  of  her  peril,  dared  the  conventionalities 
and  married  him  —  been  in  insidious  and  deadly 
conflict  with  the  only  possibilities  which  made  life 
of  value  to  him?  She  had  been  afraid  of  her 
marriage  for  her  own  sake,  —  what  if  it  had 

O  ' 

ruined  him  ?  She  had  attempted  to  conserve  all 
that  she  deemed  of  value, — what  if  she  had 
wrested  from  him  all  that  he  deemed  of  value? 
Their  ideals  were  as  far  asunder  as  the  poles. 


344  FELICIA. 

Had  she  arrogated  to  herself  the  office  of  judge 
as  to  which  should  survive  ? 

As  to  that  other  responsibility  which  she  had 
assumed  toward  this  art  of  his,  her  thoughts  lin- 
gered vaguely  about  the  theory  which  was  to  him 
so  real  a  fact,  —  that  the  development  of  certain 
tendencies  in  art  is  a  great  power  in  intellectual 
growth.  Had  she  interfered  to  rob  the  world  of 
some  subtle,  far-reaching  possibility  of  achieve- 
ment which  might  have  ennobled  and  sanctified 
other  minds  and  ambitions  in  a  sordid  age,  sorely 
in  need  of  eyes  that  lift  themselves  to  the  stars  ? 
The  world  ?  Well,  with  her  limitations,  it  was 
hardly  within  her  horizon  to  comprehend  what  is 
meant  in  saying  that  the  world  should  be  robbed. 
But  since  it  was  he  who  so  tensely  held  his  eager 
ambition  to  bestow  upon  it  his  "  great  future," 
she  might  seek  to  realize  what  throes  were  his  in 
relinquishment,  what  desolation  for  love  of  the 
thing  itself. 

And  now  the  woman  whose  heart  ached  for  him 
must  endure  with  what  fortitude  she  might  the 
knowledge  that  in  his  hour  of  disaster  it  was  his 
impulse  to  escape  from  her,  and  be  alone  with  the 
winter  wind  and  his  griefs. 

The  wind  was  high.  She  could  see  through 
the  window  that  it  was  sweeping  across  the  sky 
vast  masses  of  black  clouds  that  held  cavernous 
depths,  defined  sometimes  by  illusive  pallid 
gleams  and  mysterious  swirls  and  rifts  ;  strange 
of  contour,  suggesting  the  volcanoes  and  moun« 


FELICIA.  345 

tains  and  gigantic  remnants  of  continents  that  ap- 
pertain to  some  burnt-out  world,  still  obeying  the 
great  uncomprehended  law  which  set  it  in  motion 
and  sent  it  revolving  through  space.  The  snow 
had  ceased  to  fall.  Once  was  visible  for  a  mo- 
ment a  dim,  veiled  moon,  with  a  yellow  aureola 
about  it.  The  chaos  of  black  vapor  was  bathed 
in  a  pale  radiance  ;  and  suddenly  it  had  vanished, 
save  for  fugitive  flecks  of  white  light  that  gleamed 
a  moment  longer,  then  one  by  one  were  gone. 
And  ever  the  strong  wind,  with  its  sense  of  resist- 
less motion,  and  the  inexplicable  suggestion  of 
impending  calamity  which  comes  with  the  impla- 
cable rising  and  falling  of  that  mighty  voice,  swept 
along  the  sky,  and  over  the  vast  plains  of  the 
prairies,  and  through  the  corridor-like  streets  *oi 
the  city. 

Kennett  came  at  last,  with  a  heavy  tread. 
There  was  deadly  fatigue  in  his  face.  He  spoke 
in  a  stern  voice. 

"  If  you  want  to  ruin  me,  now  is  your  chance," 
he  said.  "  It  is  necessary  that  I  sleep ;  so  only 
talk  to  me  with  excitement,  and  the  game  is  up." 

It  is  one  of  the  tragic  elements  of  intense  feel- 
ing that  it  can  make  no  compact  with  policy. 
The  faculty  to  cajole,  to  palliate,  to  deplore,  to 
predict  good  fortune  for  next  week,  for  to-mor- 
row ;  assuming  the  guise  of  partisanship,  to  re- 
sent calamity  as  an  affront,  —  this  adroit  manage- 
ment in  arrogating  the  office  and  functions  of  ally 
is  a  most  potent  factor  in  the  art  of  consolation. 


346  FELICIA. 

Perhaps  it  is  to»  much  to  assert  that  this  is  possi- 
ble only  when  sympathy  is  lukewarm,  but  cer- 
tainly the  heart  that  feels  another's  disaster  as  a 
supreme  calamity  prompts  few  pat  phrases.  And 
these  same  pat  phrases,  —  how  welcome,  how 
healing,  how  indispensable !  Kennett,  strong  as 
he  thought  himself,  expected  them,  longed  for 
them,  felt  that  he  could  not  exist  without  them. 
He  glanced  wistfully  —  his  inconsistent  bitter 
words  still  vibrating  on  the  air  —  at  her  face ; 
white  it  was,  and  tense.  In  the  utter  collapse  of 
his  powers,  he  could  only  feel  indefinitely  that  it 
held  deep  meanings  ;  he  could  not  now  compre- 
hend the  expression  in  her  eyes,  as  she  lifted  them 
mutely  to  him. 

He  sighed  heavily  as  he  walked  across  the 
room.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  waked  till  the  last 
moment  before  rehearsal,  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

For  all  her  alertness  of  interpretation  in  the 
trivial  crises  of  life,  she  did  not  understand  the 
feeling  underlying  his  words  and  his  stern,  al- 
most cruel  tone  ;  she,  who  had  so  many  tactful 
devices  at  command  when  nothing  was  at  stake, 
was  helpless  now,  her  facilities  paralyzed  in  the 
realization  that  a  calamity  had  through  her  come 
upon  him,  and  in  the  thought  of  his  anger. 
Long  after  he  had  fallen  into  a  sleep  so  profound 
that  he  seemed  to  have  passed  into  the  vague 
border  lands  that  lie  between  life  and  death,  she 
still  sat  motionless,  staring  with  a  white  face  out 
of  the  window  at  the  dark,  tempestuous  night. 


FELICIA.  847 

striving  to  definitely  realize  what  had  happened 
in  all  its  relations  to  his  life  and  to  hers. 

By  degrees  the  wind  sank  ;  the  clouds  broke 
slowly  apart ;  stars  looked  through  the  rifts,  icy 
and  aloof ;  the  pale  gibbous  moon  stole  into  view, 
sending  long  shafts  of  spectral  light  into  the  room. 

After  all,  does  much  of  our  woe  come  about 
because  we  have  no  mental  system  of  appraise- 
ment ?  If  we  had  such  a  formula,  —  simplest  of 
processes,  —  if,  for  instance,  we  should  definitely 
consider  as  a  set-off  against  possible  bliss,  valued, 
let  us  say,  at  90,  the  joy  actually  in  possession, 
should  we  not  write  against  it  also  90,  even  100  ? 
In  its  deep  subconsciousness,  overswept  by  the 
turbulent,  superficial  emotions  of  daily  life,  does 
the  soul  distinctly  realize  its  possession,  while 
lighter  values  drift  along  lighter  currents,  or 
gleam  prismatic  on  the  surface  ?  And  is  it  these 
which,  in  our  careless  habit  of  thought  and  speech, 
we  call  precious  ? 

She  had  often  said  to  herself  in  the  past  year 
that  life  was  worthless  without  appropriateness, 
dignity,  embellishment.  It  had  not  occurred  to 
her  to  weigh  against  these  potent  forces  that 
strong  element  which  had  come  to  be  a  part  of 
her  very  existence,  until  she  feared  that  its  pos- 
session was  threatened.  Now,  so  distinctly  did  it 
assert  itself  in  this  vigil  of  hers  that  all  artificiali- 
ties were  as  if  annihilated,  and  the  terror  of  losing 
her  hold  upon  her  husband's  heart  was  even  of 
more  moment  than  the  terror  of  menace  to  him. 


848  FELICIA. 

The  theory  that  she  was  losing  her  hold  upon 
his  heart  received,  apparently,  the  next  morning, 
the  fatal  corroboration  of  accident.  He  carue 
back  from  rehearsal  gloomy,  absorbed,  with  no 
words  of  greeting  for  her  as  he  entered.  He 
stood  silent  before  the  fire  for  some  moments, 
then  suddenly  crossed  the  room  and  seated  him- 
self at  the  piano. 

She  summoned  her  composure.  She  made  a 
strong  effort  to  overcome  the  timidity  and  anxiety 
that  had  taken  possession  of  her.  She  too  crossed 
the  room,  ami  stood  beside  him.  She  placed  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder.  But  her  hand  was  trem- 
bling ;  her  face  was  pale  ;  tears  were  in  her  eyes. 

He  glanced  up,  with  a  palpable  shrinking.  He 
feared  her,  she  said  to  herself,  —  that  was  evi- 
dent. He  thought  she  was  on  the  verge  of  an- 
other scene ;  he  deemed  her  a  weak,  hysterical, 
jealous  creature,  ready  for  wild  criminations  and 
ecstatic  reconciliations,  which  would  tear  his 
nerves  and  exhaust  his  strength  when  he  most 
needed  the  full  mastery  of  his  faculties.  Yes,  it 
was  evident.  He  feared  her. 

The  thought  controlled  her.  She  stood  motion- 
less for  some  moments ;  then,  after  a  few  casual 
words  when  she  could  trust  her  voice,  she  turned 
away.  His  face  expressed  relief,  —  she  could  not 
mistake  it,  —  and  she  could  only  say  to  herself 
again  and  again  that  he  feared  her ;  he  could 
hardly  look  at  her ;  he  dreaded  that  she  should 
even  speak  to  him. 


FELICIA.  349 

As  the  long  day  wore  on  she  became  an  adept 
in  self-torture.  She  believed  that  her  reproaches 
and  exactions  had  borne  fruit  in  his  indifference, 
even  his  aversion.  Her  sense  of  justice  was 
paralyzed ;  she  no  longer  recollected  that  she 
too  had  been  severely  tried  ;  she  only  saw  the 
years  stretching  before  her  in  which  she  would 
slip  further  and  further  out  of  his  life,  and  be- 
come, indeed,  only  its  unlucky  incident,  with 
which  it  might  well  have  dispensed.  In  her  de- 
spair she  humbly  kept  in  the  background,  that  she 
might  not  in  an  unguarded  moment  say  some- 
thing which  would  agitate  him  and  again  place 
him  at  a  disadvantage. 

He  was  silent  and  absorbed  throughout  the 
afternoon.  His  manner  was  evidently  unstudied, 
unintentional ;  it  was  not  designed  as  punish- 
ment, to  mark  his  displeasure  because  of  that  ill- 
timed  outbreak  of  hers ;  it  was  not  the  luxury  of 
wreaking  on  another  something  of  his  own  suffer- 
ing. He  gave  her  little  thought,  —  that  was  the 
simple  explanation.  With  his  somewhat  blunt 
perception  of  actual  in  contrast  with  imaginary 
emotion,  he  did  not  compass  the  tumult  of  feeling 
in  which  she  was  involved.  He  considered  her 
not  at  all ;  he  remembered  only  his  own  troubles, 
that  this  was  a  determining  crisis  in  his  career. 

But  as  he  was  about  to  leave  the  room  for  the 
theatre  he  turned  back  suddenly.  It  was  only  an 
impulse.  He  had  noticed  nothing  of  the  white 
despair  in  her  face,  so  absorbed  was  he,  and  so 


350  FELICIA. 

still  a  presence  had  she  become.  He  took  her  in 
his  arms  and  looked  into  her  eyes.  His  own  were 
still  anxious  and  haggard.  His  very  soul  seemed 
to  gaze  from  them.  Under  that  long,  tender 
look  her  heart  began  to  beat  heavily  ;  the  slow 
tears  welled  up.  He  kissed  her  as  he  turned 
away.  "  Good-by,  dear,"  he  said. 

It  was  only  an  impulse.  It  was  not  because  he 
forgave  her  ;  he  had  forgotten  that  he  had  some- 
thing to  forgive,  —  he  loved  her  much.  It  was 
not  a  plea  that  she  should  forgive  his  reproaches 
last  night ;  these  too  he  had  forgotten,  —  he  knew 
she  loved  him  much. 

For  her  it  was  a  benignant  impulse ;  it  gave 
her  back,  as  it  were,  to  life.  The  throbbing  of 
her  heart  and  her  tumultuous  rising  tears  seemed 
to  pulverize  and  wash  away  the  heavy,  numbing, 
poignant  pain  she  had  endured. 

As  he  opened  the  door  and  started  out  of  the 
room,  he  turned  again  and  closed  it. 

"  Surely,  surely,"  he  said,  in  the  insistent  tone 
of  one  who  would  fain  constrain  what  he  desires 
to  believe,  "  my  voice  must  be  all  right  now." 

He  drew  himself  up,  inflated  his  lungs,  and 
began  to  sing.  The  opening  phrases  of  the  un- 
lucky solo  which  had  come  to  grief  rose  in  smooth, 
mellow  resonance,  —  delicately  accurate  in  pitch 
and  modulation,  indescribably  rich  and  effective 
in  quality.  The  anxiety  and  intentness  on  his 
face  faded  ;  he  drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief,  looked  at 
her  with  a  half  smile,  and  was  gone. 


FELICIA.  351 

He  loved  much,  too,  what  he  called  his  art. 

"Art "  is  a  word  of  elastic  significations.  Just 
now  all  its  vast  systems  of  science  and  presenta- 
tion, its  potentialities,  its  ramifications,  its  possi- 
bilities, were  merged  into  the  personation  that 
night  of  Prince  Roderic. 

His  Highness  was  her  rival,  with  his  powder, 
and  his  paint,  and  his  curls ;  with  his  attitudiniz- 
ing and  his  triumphs  of  facial  expression ;  with 
his  robust  metrical  defiances  and  his  languishing 
love  ditties,  —  he  and  such  as  he. 

And  her  only  rival  ? 

She  was  sure  of  that  now,  because,  she  said  to 
herself  with  conviction,  his  eyes  could  not  look 
into  hers  with  truth  in  them  while  his  heart  held 
a  lie.  Her  doubts  had  not  been  very  logical ; 
perhaps  her  reasoning  now  was  as  inconsequent, 
but  to  her  it  was  certainty,  and  it  sufficed. 

As  she  sat  alone  that  night,  she  had  no  previ- 
sion of  the  fate  coming  so  fast.  Her  reaching 
thought,  that  would  fain  have  pierced  the  future 
and  foreseen  its  promise,  and  in  anticipating  its 
menaces  annulled  them,  lifted  no  fold  of  the  veil 
which  hid  the  next  hour.  When  she  roused  her- 
self, it  was  with  the  realization  of  an  unusual 
commotion  on  the  street.  Then  a  heavy  rattling 
invaded  the  air,  and  the  sharp  strokes  of  a  gong 
rang  out  peremptorily.  She  drew  up  the  shade, 
opened  the  window,  and  looked  out. 

A  strong  wind  was  blowing ;  the  night  was  bit- 
terly cold.  The  stars  glinted  frostily  above  the 


352  FELICIA. 

snow-covered  roofs.  There  was  a  deep  red  glow 
against  the  horizon,  extending  to  the  zenith  ;  it 
was  strong  enough  to  pale  the  lamps,  and  cast  a 
roseate  light  along  the  faQade  of  the  buildings 
that  lined  the  street.  A  number  of  men  on  the 
pavement  below  were  hurrying  in  that  direction  ; 
several  had  stopped,  and  were  speaking  excitedly 
to  others. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  for  her  to  do,  —  she  was 
not  consciously  alarmed,  a  fire  was  such  a  usual 
incident, — but,  obeying  some  imperative  inward 
demand,  she  leaned  out  of  the  window  and  called 
to  them. 

"  Where  is  the  fire  ?  "  she  asked. 

They  looked  np  as  her  silvery  tones  split  the 
air  suddenly.  Then  the  answer  floated  to  her  :  — 

"  The  Opera  House  is  burning." 

For  one  instant  they  thought  she  was  about  to 
throw  herself  from  the  window,  she  swayed  so  vio- 
lently forward.  The  next  moment  she  was  run- 
ning along  the  dimly  lighted  hall,  down  the  stairs, 
and  out  into  the  street. 

Strangely  enough,  she  was  not  conscious  of 
terror,  —  she  was  only  unnaturally  conscious  of 
the  external  conditions :  that  more  snow  had 
fallen ;  that  the  pavements  were  covered  ;  that 
the  hurrying  crowd  of  excited  men  was  constantly 
increasing ;  that  the  sullen  red  glare  was  intensi- 
fied ;  that  another  engine,  and  then  a  hose  car- 
riage, sharply  turned  a  corner  as  she  was  about  to 
cross  the  street.  She  was  caught  by  strong  hands 


FELICIA.  353 

and  held  in  a  firm  grasp,  as  she  would  have 
dashed  in  front  of  the  madly  plunging  horses ; 
the  driver's  loud,  hoarse  cries  of  warning  and 
anger  resounded  above  the  unceasing  clamor  of 
the  gong.  Then  they  had  passed,  and  she 
wrested  her  arm  from  the  detaining  hands  and 
hurried  on.  And  now  in  the  crowd  were  gentle- 
men, with  wild  eyes  and  white  faces,  hatless,  their 
gala  attire  crushed  and  torn.  And  soon  she  was 
meeting  women  as  well,  frantically  agitated,  many 
screaming  piteously.  And  always  the  crowd  was 
denser,  until  it  was  difficult,  even  with  all  her 
faculties  preternaturally  alert,  to  edge  her  way 
through  it.  When  at  last  she  turned  a  certain 
corner,  the  scene  revealed  might  have  been  Pan- 
demonium. 

From  the  roof  and  windows  of  the  great  building 
flames  were  shooting,  —  red  and  deeply  orange, 
sometimes  veined  with  purple  gleams,  and  again 
shading  into  amethystine  banners  that  waved  fan- 
tastically. Where  streams  of  water  were  thrown, 
columns  of  steam  and  of  black  smoke  ascended, 
and  through  them  played  fiery  jets  of  sparks, 
that  floated  high  into  the  air,  and  traveled  far  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind.  That  bitter  north  wind 
had  already  done  strange,  effective  work.  Gigan- 
tic icicles,  growing  momently  more  massive  under 
its  arctic  influence,  hung,  glittering  and  splendid, 
from  every  projection  on  which  the  streams  of 
water  chanced  to  fall.  The  firemen  were  encased 
in  gleaming  icy  mail  that  rattled  with  a  loud  sound. 


354  FELICIA. 

As  they  appeared  for  an  instant  within  the  glassy 
arches  surrounding  the  windows,  or  moved  about 
on  the  roof,  the  red  light,  falling  upon  their  spark- 
ling vesture  and  their  ice-covered  hair  and  beards, 
was  reflected  back  with  prismatic  gleams.  Sud- 
denly, a  loud,  peremptory  command  rang  out,  and 
a  moment  later,  above  the  roar  of  the  flames, 
and  the  heavy  panting  of  the  engines,  and  the 
continuous  swash  of  the  water,  there  arose  a  long, 
loud,  hideous  crash,  as  a  portion  of  the  eastern 
wall  gave  way. 

Felicia  was  swept  with  the  retreating  crowd 
out  of  the  rain  of  cinders  that  drifted  downward. 
Mechanically  she  dashed  the  burning  fragments 
from  her  hair,  her  hands,  her  face ;  then,  as  she 
looked  up,  she  stood  as  if  turned  to  stone. 

Many  other  eyes  were  fixed  on  Kennett.  Never 
had  drama  more  effective  stage  -  setting ;  never 
had  actor  more  intent  audience.  In  the  back- 
ground, high  above  the  high  roofs  of  the  building, 
rolled  dense  clouds  of  black  smoke,  permeated 
through  and  through  with  upward-drifting  sparks, 
and  elusive  scarlet  and  orange  plumes  of  flame 
that  capriciously  waved,  and  shot  swiftly  out,  and 
vanished,  to  flare  anew  on  a  higher  level  of  the 
cloud. 

When  he  had  sprung  suddenly  upon  the  roof, 
it  was  as  if  he  had  emerged  from  that  chaos  of  fire 
and  smoke.  He  stood  for  a  moment  gazing  about 
him ;  then  he  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  building. 
At  that  great  height  he  seemed  to  move  with  con- 


FELICIA.  355 

summate  grace  and  lightness.  He  was  dressed  in 
the  costume  he  wore  in  the  last  act  of  Prince  Rod- 
eric.  The  blue  and  silver  vividly  accented  his 
figure  against  the  darkly  rolling  clouds.  He 
stood  motionless,  looking  at  the  sea  of  upturned 
faces ;  at  the  building  across  the  alley ;  at  the 
fiery  gulf  into  which  the  eastern  wall  had  fallen ; 
at  the  firemen  on  the  lower  roofs  of  the  building, 
separated  from  him  by  that  maelstrom  of  flames ; 
at  those  other  flames,  each  moment  fiercer,  more 
implacable,  more  assertive,  shooting  out  of  the 
windows  below  him ;  then  he  looked  again  at 
the  mass  of  human  beings  on  the  streets.  There 
rose  to  him  incoherent  murmurs,  breaking  into 
frantic  exclamations.  The  intense  terror,  inhe- 
rent in  human  nature,  of  that  most  frightful 
fate,  death  by  fire,  manifested  itself  in  quick,  wild 
cries,  uttered  by  men  ordinarily  sane  enough,  of 
insistence  that  he  should  jump.  Then  in  a  breath 
came  counter  cries,  —  "  Wait !  "  "  Wait !  "  — 
then  loud  calls  for  the  hook  and  ladder  com- 
panies, then  assertions  that  there  was  no  time  to 
wait ;  and  again  desperate  injunctions  to  jump 
rose  into  a  loud  chorus  inexpressibly  shattering  to 
the  nerves  in  its  quality  of  uncontrollable  terror. 

Presently  he  turned  slowly,  and  retraced  his 
steps  toward  the  scuttle.  Already  the  space  along 
the  flat  roof  was  greatly  lessened ;  fire  and  smoke 
were  bursting  out  in  many  places. 

There  was  a  pause  of  uncertainty  and  specula- 
tion. Would  he  try  to  go  down  the  stairs,  in  the 


356  FELICIA. 

hope  of  finding  egress  through  some  door  or  win- 
dow  not  yet  essayed  ?  Such  an  effort  was  mani- 
festly futile. 

In  another  moment  it  was  apparent  that  his  in- 
tention was  to  leap  across  the  alley  and  reach  the 
opposite  building,  an  achievement  barely  within 
the  limits  of  possibility. 

He  stooped  and  tightened  the  straps  that  bound 
his  light  sandals  about  his  feet.  Then  he  placed 
his  hands  upon  his  hips,  and  ran  so  swiftly,  so 
lightly,  so  elastic-ally,  that  the  effect  was  as  if  he 
were  miraculously  destitute  of  weight.  It  was  an 
infinitesimal  interval  of  time  before  he  reached 
the  edge  of  the  roof.  He  threw  his  hands  in 
front  of  him  as  he  leaped  and  launched  himself 
into  mid-air.  For  one  second  the  swift  figure  — 
a  gleam  of  white  and  blue  and  silver  —  was  visi- 
ble in  transit  across  the  sheer  space  between  the 
two  buildings ;  and  for  that  wild  instant  the  real- 
ization of  the  deadly  danger  was  annulled  in  the 
exultant  sense  of  the  stupendous  achievement. 
How  high  he  was,  how  light,  how  strong !  Inex- 
orable physical  laws,  —  how  airily  he  waved  them 
away !  And  did  he  leap  or  fly ! 

In  one  second  more  a  huge  dun-colored  cloud 
of  smoke,  with  its  fiery  embroidery  of  sparks, 
drifted  down  and  hid  him  from  view.  There  had 
been  tense  silence  until  this  instant ;  now  arose  a 
clamor  of  ejaculations  and  eager  questions.  Had 
he  made  it?  Had  he  missed  it?  Had  he  fallen? 
And  "  Ah,  God  help  him !  "  cried  many. 


FELICIA.  357 

A  moment  later  they  saw  what  had  happened. 

At  the  foot  of  the  wall  lay  a  mass  of  blue  and 
silver,  blood-stained  and  contorted,  and  a  face  and 
figure  mutilated  past  recognition.  There  was  a 
quiver  of  unrealized  agonies,  and  then  —  problems 
solved?  ideals  attained  in  higher  fruition  than  the 
paltry  human  mind  conceives?  values  estimated 
with  the  clear  cognition  of  the  immortals?  What 
strange,  wise  presence,  set  free  in  one  tremendous 
moment,  went  forth  into  the  darkness  ! 

The  events  of  that  night  wrought  radical 
changes  where  Kennett  had  been  closely  concerned. 
Judge  Hamilton  discovered  he  held  the  opinion 
that  a  tragedy  can  dignify  even  an  absurd  situa- 
tion, and  that,  under  the  circumstances,  it  was  not 
unseemly  for  him  to  forgive  his  daughter.  He 
took  her  home  with  him  shortly,  and  thus  she  was 
restored  to  the  appropriateness,  the  dignities,  the 
embellishments,  of  life.  These  were  not  of  so 
much  worth  to  her  as  once  they  had  been. 

Does  it  take  the  mighty  problems  of  life  and 
death  to  elucidate  the  lesser  problems  of  relative 
values?  Can  we  discriminate  fairly  as  to  rela- 
tive values  when  vast  and  complicated  forces,  ex- 
traneous conditions  in  unnumbered  combinations, 
inherited  tendencies,  the  tyranny  of  tradition,  the 
tyranny  of  training,  the  implacable,  exacting  hu- 
man heart,  are  elements  of  the  problem  ? 

Is  the  artificial  entity  which  we  labor  to  endow 
with  strong  and  subtle  qualities,  which  we  ambi- 


358  FELICIA. 

tiously  call  Character,  and  which  we  bestow  on 
our  inmost  selves,  saying,  "  Soul,  this  is  thy  twin. 
Walk  hand  in  hand  through  life,"  —  is  it,  after 
all,  the  stronger,  more  subtle,  more  uncontrolla- 
ble, of  the  two  ?  May  it  not  prove  even  antago- 
nistic, and  in  the  end  destroy  its  dedicated  com- 
panion ? 

This  chronicler  is  no  QEdipus  to  solve  these  rid- 
dles. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


3  1158  00959  7492 


A     000128859     6 


.•>    '  .  ...  re 


